Nothing But a Whisper
by CCgwtw
Summary: A "what if" story that begins immediately after Scarlett falls down the stairs. Bookcentric and written largely from Rhett's point-of-view.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was the first time that Scarlett had ever been sick. Now, she was sicker than anyone dared believe. She was pale against the white sheets and small, dwarfed by the size of the enormous bed. At times she lay completely still as if death had already come to claim her, leaving nothing but a shell of her former self behind. Other times, she writhed in agony. Twisting and turning in bed and with each twist and turn, she screamed out in agony. She spoke in wordless murmurings. Once in awhile, those in the room would pick up bits and pieces of words that they understood. The Yankees were coming! Melly was having her baby. Tara, home to Tara. "I want my mother," they heard Scarlett wail.

But more often than not, her voice was barely above a whisper, seemingly not even decipherable by those who loved her the most.

"Melly?" her voice whispered clearly on the second day after the fall.

"S'me child," answered Mammy, placing a cool cloth on her forehead in yet another effort to bring down her soaring fever. "Ah with mah lamb, Miss Scarlett. Ahs here wid you."

"Mammy," Scarlett breathed just before her fingers wound themselves around the sheet and blanket, straining once again in pain. Again, she started talking, muttering something that Mammy could not understand. Mammy strained to hear what Scarlett said, but even leaning in close she couldn't pick up on the wordless sighs and moans coming from the woman who was so obviously struggling with indescribable pain whenever she was conscious.

Typically, in moments like this, Scarlett would drift off again into a state of unconsciousness where her body would work to heal without its owner feeling its forces at work. Other times, Mammy, Melly or Doctor Meade would give her a dose of morphine to ease her out of her pain. This time, however, she had just been given a dose and it did little to calm her. Mammy could not give her any more of the strong pain killer. Scarlett had already had enough, yet she was still conscious and obviously racked with pain.

"Mammy…" Scarlett called in a low whisper.

"Whut chile?"

Scarlett rolled her head from side to side. "No…no. Please…I want…" Scarlett grimaced as another wave of pain racked her body.

"Whut chile? Whut do you want?" asked Mammy with tears streaming down her face. She twisted her old black hands in helpless frustration. Her lamb was hurting and she couldn't do anything to help. What did she want? "Do you want someone, chile?"

"No…no!" She spoke weakly, yet rapidly as if fearing she wouldn't get her words out before another wave of pain rolled through her body. "He…It's no use…It's no use…Rhett…" The name was barely audible. Despite the effort it took, she seemed determined to persevere. "Rhett…Oh, no…doesn't want." Her words were not even a whisper, but this time, there was no mistaking her meaning. Mammy heard them and knew she had to get Captain Butler. She heaved her great bulk out of the chair that she'd been sitting in for the last hour and walked to the door. In the hallway at the top of the stairs, she saw Doctor Meade talking with Melanie. For the last two days, since Scarlett's fall, Mammy and Melanie had been taking turns sitting at Scarlett's bedside.

"Miz Scarlett is calling for Mist' Rhett," Mammy called to the pair.

"I'll get him," said Melanie, starting for his room.

"I don't know, Mammy," Doctor Meade put out an arm to stop Melanie's movements. "She has to stay calm. She needs her rest. I just gave her a dose of morphine. She cannot be having visitors and talking."

"Ah no it 'tain't fittin," said Mammy, who had started to cry lightly now. "But dat mah lamb in dere and she's not gittin better. She needs Mist' Rhett and she need 'im now," she finished with a voice that was far stronger than she was feeling. Melanie nodded in agreement with Mammy and despite Doctor Meade's reservations, she knocked lightly on Rhett's bedroom door.

* * *

Mammy had been the first to hear Rhett's cries for help as he picked Scarlett up from the carpet at the bottom of the stairs. Mammy had been with Bonnie, getting her and her new kitten settled when she heard Rhett's hoarse voice yelling for help. She had come out of the nursery and was stocked when she saw Rhett swiftly climbing the stair, two at a time, carrying Scarlett's lifeless form.

"Get a doctor, Mammy! Quick! Oh, God…Oh, my God!" cried Rhett.

Stunned and reluctant to leave Scarlett now, Mammy had forced herself to get help. She had sent Pork to fetch Doctor Meade and Lou to find Melanie. Mammy was there at the kitchen gathering some clean cloths and cool water when Lou unceremoniously ushered a bewildered Melanie through the door.

"Oh, Miz Melly, Ahs so glad you come," exclaimed Mammy with tears coursing down her black cheeks.

"What is it, Mammy?" asked Melly as she took off her bonnet and laid her shawl on the back of a kitchen chair.

"It's Miz Scarlett. She fell down de parlor stairs. Ahs 'fraid my lamb isn't goin' ter be able to stan' dis."

Without a word, Melly took the wash basin from Mammy's hands while Mammy grabbed the cloths and they rushed toward the house's back staircase. They had just emerged in the upstairs hall, when Pork arrived with a breathless Doctor Meade, who he had cajoled to leave his office full of waiting patients.

"Pork, get word to my wife that I won't be home for several hours," commanded Doctor Meade as he looked to Melanie to take the lead.

Melanie lead the way to Scarlett's room and upon entering, the threesome found Scarlett laying on the bed unconscious. Rhett, still wearing his overcoat, sat on the edge of the bed, holding her left hand in his, and with his other hand, his fingers alternated between twisting her wedding ring and lightly rubbing her wrist as he sat solemnly with water-filled eyes.

"Thank God, you're here, Doctor Meade. Melly," Rhett said as he immediately stood to allow Doctor Meade access to his wife.

Melanie and Mammy rushed to Scarlett's side as did Doctor Meade, who bumped shoulders with Rhett as he brushed past him. In no time, the three surrounded Scarlett's bed, removing her slippers and gingerly removing her stockings. Rhett had already opened her wrapper and now, Melanie removed it from her shoulders as Mammy eased Scarlett up to get the ermine trimmed wrapper out of the way so that Doctor Meade could fully evaluate his patient. All the time, Rhett stood in the background, regulated to nothing more than a bystander and he pushed his clenched fists deep into his pockets.

"Captain Butler!" Doctor Meade's brusque voice made Rhett start. "What happened?"

"She…She fell. She fell down the stairs." Rhett's voice shook as he explained rapidly.

"How far down?"

"She, oh, my God. She was at the top." Rhett answered realizing the full impact of his words."

"She fell down the entire flight?" Doctor Meade turned to look at his questioningly. "The whole flight?"

"Y-Yes."

Mammy, Melanie and Doctor Meade all stared at Scarlett in stunned disbelief, knowing full well what Rhett's words implied.

"Lord, help her," Doctor Meade shook his head and turned his attention back to Scarlett, before calling out sharply: "Captain Butler!"

"What? What can I do?" Rhett asked anxiously.

Doctor Meade said nothing. His eyes merely turned to look at the door. Rhett followed his gaze, but did not understand.

"What? Do you need me to get you something?"

"Captain Butler, I ask that you take your leave. Let me do my job. There's nothing you can do here now."

The words hit Rhett harder than any of his wife's furious slaps. "Leave her? How could he leave her now, when he had killed her? Why, he couldn't leave her." Rhett stood ready to do battle with Doctor Meade, but quickly, Melanie came to his side.

"Really, Captain Butler, please go now. Doctor Meade will take care of Scarlett. You'll see. Look, you're still in your coat. You just got back from London, didn't you? Why don't you unpack and when you're done, I'm sure Doctor Meade will be finished here?" Again, like many times before this, Melanie showed her iron will and deftly steered Rhett to the door, giving him little opportunity to protest.

"But…but Scarlett may need me," Rhett's eyes pleaded quietly as Melanie ushered him through the door."

"You've done enough," Doctor Meade called without bothering to look in Rhett's direction. "I'll let you know if we need you."

Rhett's shoulders slumped dejectedly as he turned toward the hall.

"Please, Captain Butler," Melanie urged him softly as if her words could dilute the harshness in Doctor Meade's voice. She was touched by Rhett's reluctance to leave his wife, evidenced by his slow plodding steps forward as he strained to look back, over his shoulder, over Doctor Meade's shoulder, at the diminutive figure that lay still in the bed.

Melanie knew he was worried. She saw how worried he had been when Scarlett gave birth to Bonnie. Even then Melanie was struck by how much his man loved his wife and how lucky she was to have her husband waiting anxiously outside her door while she was in labor. If only she had been so lucky when Beau was born. If Ashley has been there—outside her door—she could have borne the pain so much easier.

Yes, she knew this time was different; Scarlett's life didn't hang in the balance when Bonnie was born. Her heart broke when her eyes met Rhett's, red-rimmed and glassy with unshed tears. For an instant, she had her doubts about turning this man away. What if Scarlett died? Wouldn't she want her husband at her side? Melanie knew she would want Ashley with her.

"Miss Melly! I need you here," called Doctor Meade. "Quickly, now!"

Rhett took one step back into the room at the sound of alarm in Doctor Meade's voice, but was stopped by Melanie Wilkes. "I know you are worried, Captain Butler, but it just isn't proper," she added, her hand lightly brushing his arm in reassurance as she reached to close the heavy mahogany door.

Rhett, who was always in control, always in charge, stood helpless in the hallway of the grand mansion he built as a testament to the love he held in his heart for his wife. His gaze never left Scarlett's face as Melanie slowly closed the door, shutting him out of her room, her life and perhaps, if God chose to call her home, her death.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Melanie remembered talking one day with Scarlett about women like Susan B. Anthony, who was crusading for women's rights, and while Melanie had many of her own, well-educated opinions, she was not one to support Miss Anthony's beliefs. She, like many Southern women, in particular, believed that a wife's place was to defer to her husband's opinions. When Melanie discussed this with Scarlett, she was surprised that Scarlett had really no thoughts on the matter.

"Now, why would I want to vote, Melly? Why that's just plain silly," retorted Scarlett, who, Melanie thought, was more like Miss Anthony than she could possibly know.

But here, and now, Melanie couldn't help but think that men held few rights when it came to their personal lives. When men were sick, their wives nursed them, sitting at their sides day and night, night and day. Yet, when their own wives were similarly bedridden, their husbands were locked out, left to pace hallways, always looking for just snippets of information, good news that they could live on until the next update. And, it was all done for the sake of modesty. These were the men who shared their lives with their wives, shared the intimacies of the marital bed and borne common children, yet, when it came to illness, for reasons not entirely understood by Melanie, they were shut out because these sights were indecent. "Oh, how do they do it? How can they stand being separated from their wives?" wondered Melanie. Why is it that women, who were so sheltered as young belles, once married, were routinely exposed to the harsh realities of life, birth, sickness and death, while in their adult years, men, who presumably knew much more of life than women, were shielded from witnessing the stark realities of life and death?

Melanie surprised herself with this rebellious thought, yet it made her stand a little straighter, knowing that she was going to do her part to ensure that Scarlett did not have to go through this ordeal without her husband and that Rhett, would not have to suffer alone. "Let them help one another," she thought. So it was with a genuine smile on her face and an eagerness in her movements when, for the first time in two days, she knocked lightly on Rhett's door to tell him that his wife needed him.

"Come in." Rhett's voice was dull and heavy and as the door swung open. Whatever smile Melanie's face held was wiped clean and replaced with a shock at the scene before her. A tray of uneaten food from last evening lay atop the bedside table. A bottle of whiskey sat along side it, the seal broken and Melanie could see that one-quarter of it was gone. The drapes were pulled closed, shrouding the room in darkness. The old food, stale cigars left in the ashtray and the opened whiskey bottle all contributed to the foul air in the oppressive room.

Rhett's eyes were bloodshot and he had not shaved since the accident, leaving him with two day's worth of stubble on his face.

"Scarlett's dead?"

"Oh, no. She's no better, but she's asking for you. Come quick."

For a moment, Rhett just stared at her with disbelieving eyes. He'd been hoping, hoping against hope that she'd call for him. Did she really want him? How could she? Everything was his fault. If she died, he would be the one responsible. He would be the one who had killed her.

"Captain Butler, please, go to her now." Melanie prompted him. It worked. Her voice woke him from his musing and his head suddenly snapped up as his eyes cleared.

"Yes, yes," he said as he rushed past Melanie. He hesitantly opened the door to Scarlett's room and met Mammy's eyes as she looked at him from the furthest side of Scarlett's bed.

"Lawd 'ave mercy, Mist' Rhett, maybe yous kin help mah lamb," said Mammy, who appeared to be near the end of her rope trying to calm her mistress. Scarlett's anxiety had only mounted since Mammy had left the room for just a moment to call for Rhett. When she returned, she found Scarlett tossing madly from side to side in agitation. She had been delirious on and off, passing in and out of consciousness. Now, she seemed to be hallucinating once again and there was little Mammy or anyone could do but witness her fever-inspired terrors.

"She keeps goin' in an' out," Mammy told Rhett as he quickly came around to stand beside her. "Sometimes she's at Tara during the war an' sometimes she's a lil' gurl. I dunno where she is now."

Rhett slipped into the chair Mammy vacated and pulled it up close to the bed, trying to rein in Scarlett's hands, which she was madly pressing against either side of her head as she tossed from side to side. "No! No!" Scarlett yelled, startling everyone in the room. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" she screamed before sobs shook her body.

"What have you done?" Doctor Meade came running back into the room. He was dumbfounded. Why he was just halfway down the stairs when he heard her cries and he had just left Scarlett no more than fifteen minutes earlier after giving her a dose of morphine and she had been sleeping soundly.

"Nothing! Nothing at all," Rhett said in his defense. Doctor Meade made a move to shoulder Rhett out of the way, but this time, Rhett stood firm. "No, Doctor Meade. Let me. I'm her husband," he said, stressing the last word. "Let me…please" he begged as his voice softened.

Doctor Meade muttered to himself, shaking his head as he backed off. He picked up his bag and left the room, calling without looking back. "I'll be back to check on her tomorrow."

Rhett turned his attention back to Scarlett, who was sobbing convulsively. "Scarlett, hush, now, it's all right darling! Shhh, it will be all right."

"No, no…" she cried. "I'm so sorry…so sorry…so sorry." She continued to rock side to side, but her breathing was slowing somewhat. "So…sorry." Her voice trailed off to a whisper.

"Hush…darling. Shhh, there, there, darling. It is going to be all right. Everything is going to be fine. You're going to be fine," said Rhett smoothly, grasping both of her hands in one of his, while his other hand gently stroked her warm cheek. As fast as Scarlett became agitated, she settled down. Rhett's soothing words seemed to calm her as the drugs could not. Mammy and Melanie, who had both thought that perhaps they had made a terrible mistake in inviting Rhett into the room, sighed in relief that he did seem to be helping.

Gradually, Scarlett's breathing returned to normal and her arms that she held rigidly in Rhett's grasp, relaxed and went limp as she drifted off into what the three hoped would be a restful slumber.

"Miss Melly, you heard her call for me?" Rhett asked without taking his eyes from Scarlett's face.

"No, I didn't," answered Melanie.

Rhett's face fell. What was this? So, she didn't ask for him. He knew it. He didn't see why she would have, unless it was to berate him. He could not get his last words to her from resounding in his head. They echoed over and over: "Cheer up, maybe you'll have a miscarriage." He suspected that these same words also haunted Scarlett. No, she wouldn't call for him.

"Ah herd her, Mist' Rhett," answered Mammy. Rhett lifted his head up to meet Mammy's eyes.

"Are you sure? What did she say?"

"Miz Scarlett was sayin' sometin Ah cudna make out. Ah asked her if she was callin' fur someone and she said yur name."

Rhett signed. She was probably cursing him. Nevertheless, he was with her and he was determined to stay with her. "Miss Melly, you're tired. Go home and rest. Enjoy some time with your family. Mammy, you go get some sleep now, too. Lou and Prissy can check on the children. I'll stay with Miss Scarlett."

Melanie and Mammy exchanged glances. What? This wasn't done. Leave a man alone to nurse his wife? Never!

"I'll come get you, Mammy, if I need any help. Really, we'll be fine, really. I heard all of Doctor Meade's instructions. I wouldn't let anything happen to Scarlett," he said as if reading their minds. "Please, go. Get some rest. Please."

Reluctantly, Melanie turned to go. He was right. He was quite capable. Hadn't he proven that by the way he cared for Bonnie? She needed to get home. Her back was breaking and she missed little Beau and Ashley so much. "Alright, Captain Butler. Just call me if you need me. I'll be back after dinner to give you a break. Mammy, would you walk me out?"

Mammy followed after Melanie slowly and now, somewhat begrudgingly. Both Melanie and Mammy stopped at the door and looked back at Scarlett as if to reassure themselves that indeed, she was in good hands. For now at least, Scarlett was sleeping soundly and Rhett was crooning tender endearments to her as he rested his elbows on the edge of the bed, holding her hands in his. He brought his lips to her hands, grazing them with a gentle kiss. Then, he brought her right hand to his cheek and buried his lips in her palm. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes tight as he bent his head and Rhett Butler prayed like he had not prayed since he made his confirmation as a youngster. The only sound in the room was the soft click of the door as Mammy pulled it closed behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Rhett dipped the cloth in the basin of cool water that Lou had brought up to Scarlett's room. He took Scarlett's right arm and carefully shoved the sleeve of her nightgown up to her elbow and sponged off her arm and wrist, then started to repeat the procedure on her left arm, wincing when he saw the large bruises that began on her forearm and climbed up to her shoulder. He dipped the cloth in the basin again and swabbed her neck, pulling the nightgown slightly off her shoulder so he wouldn't get her all wet in the process. He had gasped the first time he saw the enormous bruise on her upper chest and now, although he had seen it repeatedly, it still never failed to shock him.

Rhett carefully folded up the cool cloth and laid it on her forehead. Then, he pulled the blanket and sheet off her, dipped another cloth in the basin and started sponging off her legs. It was a process he had repeated over and over since Melanie and Mammy took their leave. Occasionally, Scarlett would be conscious enough for Rhett to raise her shoulders up slightly so that she could sip some water. Rhett knew how important water was to bringing down her fever and keeping her hydrated, so every opportunity he had, he slipped more water between her parched lips. Her fever was so high. If only it would come down, she would regain consciousness and she wouldn't be constantly plagued by her torturous hallucinations.

During this time, she was never aware of her surroundings and never realized that it was Rhett and not Melanie or Mammy who cared for her. Just as Mammy told him, Scarlett would travel in and out of consciousness, but the dose of morphine Doctor Meade had given her before he left had finally taken hold and she had no lucid moments. He said as much when Melanie stopped by after her dinner as promised to check on Scarlett. Rhett ran through his checklist of caretaking, as if he wanted to be assured that indeed he was doing what was right.

"And I've been sponging her off and whenever I can, try to get her to drink some water. Other than that, she's just been sleeping. She'll murmur incoherently once in a while, but thankfully, she hasn't had any more outbursts. With her broken ribs, I know that I can't allow her to get so worked up that she does more damage than was already done when she fell," reported Rhett solemnly, taking his eyes from Scarlett only briefly to make eye contact with Melanie.

Melanie laid her cool hand on Scarlett's cheek, impressed with the level of care Rhett was providing his wife; not all husbands would be capable of doing the same. "Scarlett is so lucky to have you."

"I don't think she'd agree with you."

"Oh, Captain Butler, you're too hard on yourself."

"No. Sometimes I think she'd be better off without me."

"Now, Captain Butler, surely you are not believing idle gossip?" Rhett's silence gave her his answer. "Why that's just ridiculous," crooned Melanie. Could it be possible that he had heard and believed the preposterous lie about Scarlett and Ashley and was jealous? True, he had left town immediately after the scandal broke but—No, it couldn't be that. Captain Butler was always going off abruptly on journeys. He couldn't have believed the gossip. He was too sensible. "I should probably not say this, but then again…Well, Captain Butler, you and Scarlett saved my life when Beau was born and Scarlett has done so much for me and my family that I can never begin to repay her. I know that there are—well," she struggled to find the right words. "There are people in town—who haven't been very kind to you or Scarlett. They call themselves good Christians, but I have to admit that they are quite judgmental and unforgiving. I believe it all stems from jealously and you cannot take what they say to heart."

"That's nice of you to say, Miss Melly, but well…Scarlett and I—we've made some mistakes. No—correct that—I've made mistakes," Rhett said, staring at Scarlett as tears welled up in his eyes.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Captain Butler. That's how we learn. We learn from our mistakes and with that knowledge we avoid making the same mistakes again."

"But some of my mistakes are unforgivable. I won't make them again, that's for sure, but my tardy education is somewhat a moot point, don't you think? What will that matter if Scarlett can't forgive them, let alone forget them?"

"That's nonsense. Scarlett loves you—"

"Believe me, I would give anything to believe that, but I'm a realist," he said softly, still not taking his eyes from Scarlett.

"You're also a romantic. Yes, I can see it. I see the way you look at Scarlett. I saw it all through the war." Rhett looked up at Melanie at this with a genuine look of wonder on his face. "You're surprised, aren't you? You thought you had us all fooled, didn't you? Scarlett didn't see it, but I knew all along that you loved her. Oh, yes, at times you were very nonchalant and I know that drove Scarlett crazy, but I saw through your charade."

"You're right, I admit it. I loved her since I first saw her at Twelve Oaks," he said wistfully, looking back at Scarlett and gently running the back of his fingers along her cheek.

"You and Scarlett are a perfect match. You complement each other so perfectly, just as Ashley complements me," she added with a shy smile. "It is rare indeed to find your true love. Many people don't ever find their perfect mate. Or, if they do, they either don't realize it or they don't treasure the other person as they should…I'm sure you know the type."

"More than you know."

"You really should go lie down and try to get some sleep, Captain Butler. I can sit with Scarlett overnight."

"No, no. I'm fine. Really. Ostensibly, I'm helping Scarlett, but being here with her is also helping me. All any of us can do now is wait and if it is waiting that I have to do, I'd just as soon do it here, with her." Rhett looked up at Melanie and gave her a weary smile.

She nodded and gathered her bonnet that she had laid on the chair when she arrived.

"Just promise me that you'll send word if you need anything. I'll check back in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, and thank you, for everything you've done for me, and for Scarlett."

After Melanie left, Rhett ruminated on their discussion. She was right, he hadn't treasured Scarlett the way he should have, the way he wanted to when he asked her to marry him. He had been so cocky that night when he proposed. Swaggering over to Aunt Pitty's house just as he swaggered up and down the deck of one of his boats. He was totally in command, or so he thought.

Could he have chosen a less romantic venue for his proposal? He should thank his lucky stars that old Frank wasn't still laying in the parlor, but hell, even if he had been that wouldn't have stopped Rhett from making Scarlett his own. After years of denying he was a marrying man, he wanted nothing more than to marry Scarlett and love her until his dying day. "I guess I'm a romantic after all," he admitted aloud, noting that Scarlett stirred slightly but continued in her deep sleep.

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, remembered back to that day. He had always dreamed of how he would finally ask Scarlett to be his wife. His actual proposal was a far cry from the romantic one he had envisioned, but he did not have the luxury of time on his side. He wanted her so badly; he would have killed Frank Kennedy if he hadn't died when he did. He could not wait another minute to have her. Her face was the first one he wanted to see every morning and the last one he wanted to see as he drifted off to sleep every night. No, he did not have time to waste, so with haste and a more than a bit of bravado, he proposed. He put on his mask of self-assurance and treated the proposal as if were of little consequence to him whether she accepted him or not.

Rhett modeled his strategy on a military one. General Sherman's direct assault on General Johnston had failed at Kennesaw Mountain, so Sherman had changed tactics and had swung his army in a wide circle in an effort to come between the Confederates and Atlanta. His plan worked and General Johnston had been forced to relinquish the heights he held in the mountains for so long to defend his rear and the railroad that led to Atlanta. Likewise, Rhett favored the indirect route to a direct assault; after all, it had been the method he had always employed to get his way. His tactics were not always the most scrupulous, but they got results. True, they were not always the results he wanted, he had to admit. After all, Scarlett had ended up married to old Frank, had she not? But he realized he had to go with what he knew for he could not risk exposing himself.

He had tempted Scarlett with the green bonnet he brought back from Paris, presenting it to her and encouraging her to try it on, knowing just as an expert salesman does, that once the unsuspecting prospect has held the item in question in their hands and tried it on, it becomes too personal to give up. That's how he got her to forsake those fake widow's weeds. Similarly, his plan was to stage the proposal to catch her off guard. How many times had he suspected that she was hanging on his every word in the hopes that a proposal would be forthcoming? On Pitty's front porch during the siege, he had every intention of asking her to marry him but when he saw a the look of triumph in her eyes, he couldn't go through with it; instead of asking for her hand in marriage, he had asked her to share his bed without the benefit of clergy. On the day of Frank's funeral, the very last thing Scarlett would be expecting would be a proposal from him—of all people—and that's exactly why he did it when he did.

He got the answer he wanted and it was with a light heart that he set off on his trip for London later that week. "I felt like a lovesick schoolboy," Rhett whispered to Scarlett as he started to sponge her off again. "You would have been shocked, my pet. I finally had—within my reach—everything I had ever needed. You probably don't know that about me…The fact is, I've never needed anyone, that is, until you. I've always needed you more than I wanted you. And, I wanted you more than I ever wanted any woman and I wanted you for all time."

"Hmmmm," Scarlett moaned slightly and Rhett wondered if she heard him, but doubted it. He could tell by the warmth radiating from her skin that her temperature was on the rise again.

"I agree, hmmmm," returned Rhett as though they were having a two-way conversation. "My dear, that is just one of many, many things you don't know about me."

Rhett continued his musings, all the while, touching Scarlett's face, holding her hand and stroking her hair. "It is rather cathartic, you know," Rhett told her with a hint of a smile. "I can sit here and tell you everything that is on my mind without any trepidation." He sat quietly at her side, shifting in the chair a bit to get comfortable for the long night ahead of him. He had just closed his eyes when Scarlett starting talking again.

"Mother! Mother! It's Katie Scarlett, I'm coming home. Oh, Mother, I've missed you so," sobbed Scarlett. "Oh, you are so beautiful, Mother. I love you. Mother!"

"Scarlett, wake up," Rhett commanded. He had seen enough of this when he was in the army. Wounded soldiers calling out to fallen comrades who were showing them the singular path they could take that would enable them to rest, free of pain and disease and find peace on the chaotic battlefield. "Scarlett, don't go! Come back here. Your mother doesn't need you now. We do!"

"Mother…" Scarlett sobbed again. "Mother, wait for me, please!"

"No, Scarlett. Damn it! Don't go! Come back here. Your mother has your father. They want you to stay here, with your family," Rhett's face was wiped clean of everything except for a growing sense of alarm that he had to bring her back and bring her back now, before it was too late. "Damn it, Scarlett, listen to me. Listen to me!" He shook her shoulders gently.

"Mother," Scarlett's voice was a bit softer, but Rhett couldn't distinguish if her voice was softer because she was giving up on her mother or if she was simply too weak and the outburst had drained her of all her strength. Rhett couldn't take the chance that it was the latter and continued pleading with her.

"Scarlett, we need you here. All of us need you. You've got to believe me. Scarlett, come back to us—please, please."

Scarlett seemed to settle down and Rhett breathed a sigh of relief as he put another cold cloth on her forehead before he started sponging her off once again. Her skin was burning to the touch and he prayed that it would break soon before it broke her.

"Mother…Mother…" she sighed one last time.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thanks to everyone for reading. I wanted to post this chapter as I'm off to New Orleans Saturday for a few days of R&R. I hope to find more inspiration there. Thanks again to all of you.**

Chapter 4

There was a soft knock at the door that startled Rhett from his reverie.

"Come in," Rhett called.

"Mist' Rhett. I done fetched Misses Butler from dey train station," reported Pork as he stepped aside and Eleanor Butler appeared in the doorway of the room Scarlett often used as an office when she was reviewing the books from the mills and the store.

"Oh, Rhett, darling," she began when he looked up to face her. "I am so sorry, so sorry dear. I came as soon as I received your telegram." Her hands wrung her gloves and her face was drawn and full of sorrow as she made her way across the room to her son. "Oh, darling," she cried as she opened her arms to him.

"Thank you, Mother," Rhett said with a stoic voice that held steady as he sidestepped her embrace. "I'm glad you're here." He idly ran his fingers across the gold embossed lettering on a ledger that read Kennedy's General Store. Apparently Scarlett had brought it home so that she could review it in depth.

"Rhett…oh, Rhett, what happened? When? I mean…Why you just left Charleston and…Was she sick while you were away? Did you come back to find that she was ill?" Her questions came out rapid fire, then Eleanor's voice trailed off in anguish as she looked at her son with teary eyes.

"No. No. She wasn't sick while I was away," he answered matter of factly. Dazed as he was, he realized that his mother must have bottled up dozens of questions during her trip from Charleston to Atlanta and he wanted to exercise patience. He took a breath and tried to give her the answers she sought. "She was fine. Really fine. Really, really just fine." His voice was distant and detached, as now he started thumbing through the pages of neat numbers that Scarlet had penned in the ledger.

"Oh, Rhett!" Eleanor reached out to her son, taking a step forward and wrapping him in her arms just as she did when he was a child.

"Mother, why she was just fine when I came home. In fact, she was more than fine. She told me that we were going to have another—," he swallowed hard, "another baby." At this, Eleanor broke into a sob and she only clung more tightly to her son. Rhett stood stiffly in her embrace with his arms hanging at his sides.

"When I returned from Charleston, she met me at the top of the stairs. It was there that she told me—told me about the baby," he said haltingly. "Then…we argued and she—she—she f—fell," he stuttered and with his last utterance, his control snapped. "Oh, my God," he wailed, suddenly wrapping his arms around his mother's waist and collapsing to his knees as he buried his face in folds of her black skirt. "Oh, my God!"

"Rhett, Rhett, shhh, my darling. I know it is hard to understand now, but she's in a better place now."

At her words, his grip tightened and he began speaking rapidly, hoarsely, babbling as though he feared her silencing him. Somehow, Eleanor was sitting in the desk chair and Rhett's head was in her lap. He talked brokenly, burrowing his head in her lap, tugging at the folds of her skirt.

"I killed Scarlett, I killed her. You don't understand. She didn't want this baby and—"

"Rhett! You mustn't say such things. You are beside yourself! Not want a baby? Why every woman wants—"

"No! No! Not my babies—You don't understand. She didn't want a baby and I made her. This—this baby—it's all my damned fault. We hadn't been sleeping together—"

"Hush, darling! Don't say these things—"

"And I was drunk and insane and I wanted to hurt her—because she had hurt me. I wanted to—and I did—but she didn't want me. She's never wanted me. She never has and I tried—I tried so hard and—"

"Rhett, please—"

"And I didn't know about this baby till the other day—when she fell. She didn't know where I was to write to me and tell me—but she wouldn't have written me if she had known. I tell you—I tell you I'd have come straight home—if I'd only known—whether she wanted me home or not…"

"Oh, yes, I know you would!"

"God, I've been crazy these weeks, crazy and drunk! And when she told me there on the steps—what did I do? What did I say? I laughed and said: 'Cheer up. Maybe you'll have a miscarriage.' And she—"

"There! There," cooed Eleanor Butler. "It will be all right—"

"You don't believe me but it's all true and I'm a dog. Do you know why I did it? I was mad, crazy with jealousy. She never cared for me and I thought I could make her care. But she never cared. She doesn't love me. She never has."

"Hush, now Rhett, shhh—"

"No, by God, you don't understand! You can't understand!" he shouted suddenly, bolting upright and flinging his arms wide to break her embrace.

The force of his movement jerked Rhett's head upright and he simultaneously felt the burn of hot coffee spill into his lap as he dropped the now empty cup. "Damn it!" he muttered, scrambling to grab a cloth to absorb the hot liquid that now had soaked his pants, his shirt, the chair and was dripping down his legs. He unconsciously ran his hand through his hair in a failed attempt to push back the stubborn lock of hair that always fell across his forehead only to discover the beads of perspiration that had broken out on his face. He took a deep breath and expelled it sharply, holding his head in one hand in a desperate attempt to still his racing heart, while his other hand braced himself on his wet knee. His heart was beating so fast from sudden jolt of reality, upset slumber and the realization of what had just transpired. "Oh, God…when did I fall asleep? Now I'm having nightmares. That will teach me to doze off again," he said aloud to reprimand himself. Relief flooded through him, bringing with it a rejuvenated sense of elation, elation that all was not lost.

"It was just a dream…Oh, thank God, it was just a dream," he told the floor. He raised his eyes from his hands, collecting his wits, and looked up to reassure himself that Scarlett was all right, that it had all been a dream after all. He drew in a sharp breath at what he saw; Scarlett's green eyes, cloudy, quiet and somber were looking back at him.

He gasped when he saw that she was awake and said so. "What…God, you surprised me! You're awake, my darling. How long have you been awake?" He took her hand and held it in both of his and leaned in close to her.

She licked her parched lips before replying: "A…minute…or so," she croaked.

"Thank, God. You're back," he said with honest relief, as he felt her forehead. "Your fever is down. That's certainly good news." A genuine smile spread across his face and he squeezed her hand. "Here, drink some of this. You need more water."

He poured a glass of water from the carafe on the bedside table, then leaned over the bed and raised up her shoulders so that she could sip from the glass he held. "There, that's a good girl." He nearly flopped back down in the chair with a combination of utter relief and exhaustion, content to just stare at her for the moment.

"How long…how…long have…you been...here?" Scarlett grimaced with each word and it was evident that every breath took a large amount of effort that triggered an equal amount of pain.

"Oh, me…? I don't know. Umm…" he fumbled in his pants pocket for his pocket watch, then remembered there was a clock on dresser on the opposite wall. He looked toward it, then shrugged. He didn't need a clock to give her an answer. "I guess since sometime yesterday afternoon."

"Where's…Melly?...Mammy? They were here…"

"Yes, they were. They both were and so was Doctor Meade. You were unconscious for two days. They were both exhausted, so when you…you…when you called for me—," Rhett chose his words slowly. If Mammy was wrong and Scarlett hadn't called for him, he'd feel like a fool. If that were the case, he'd blame it on her state of delirium. "I thought I would sit with you while they got some rest. They both were exhausted," he repeated somewhat awkwardly. "Everyone has been so worried about you, my dear. Mammy, Melly, the children—," Rhett finished softly, adding a nearly imperceptible "and me."

Scarlett took in his explanation. He could see her processing each of his words through her mind one by one, as if she were weighting each and evaluating it on its merits. "You…came…You came," she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Yes."

"I…didn't think…you would," she turned her face away from him as if the pillow next her was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Why would you think that?"

"I…I…didn't think—," she shuddered suddenly as another wave of pain interrupted her answer.

"Scarlett, I'm going to call for Doctor Meade. He will give you something for the pain," Rhett said, rising out of the chair while still holding her one hand.

"Rhett?" she turned back to face him. Her lips were drawn tightly across her mouth. She bit her bottom lip and pulled the sheet tightly as she tried to ride the wave of pain.

"Yes."

Her breathing was harder and she winced again as a spasm shot through her body. He sat right back down. "Scarlett, if the pain is too bad I can probably give you a dose of laudanum, but I'm sure Doctor Meade would prefer to see you first. I need to get him," he told her anxiously. He had never seen her like this and frankly, it frightened him.

She bit her lip again and nodded. "Good, let me get him now." Rhett rose from the chair and was at the foot of the bed when Scarlett spoke again.

"Rhett? How…long…how long have…I been here?"

"Today it is three days."

"How bad…" She couldn't finish and squeezed her eyes tight and gritted her teeth, breathing rapidly.

"Scarlett—"

"Please—tell me—"

"You have a concussion and a couple of broken ribs. That's why it hurts to breathe," he spoke rapidly, anxious to get her some relief for the pain he saw clearly in her face. "You're badly bruised. There was some internal bleeding. Doctor Meade thinks you may have damaged your hip, but that remains to be seen. For now, the main concern has been your fever. It has soared. You've been in and out of consciousness since you fell—umm—since the accident." He enumerated the litany of injuries just as Doctor Meade had to him in an unemotional, unaffected way as though he were trying to recall a grocery list from memory.

"What about…what about…the baby?" Scarlett asked, catching Rhett's obvious omission. Scarlett moved her hand from her head to her abdomen.

Rhett came back around to her side and sat in the bed. He wanted to climb into bed beside her and draw her into his arms and tell her how sorry, so very sorry he was that this little life was lost. He wanted to beg her forgiveness for being the cause of the pain that now wrecked havoc with her body. But he couldn't do any of these things. He had to keep his distance. He couldn't jostle her; she looked too fragile to touch. Moreover, he felt strongly that she didn't want his touch. It was truly ironic that he should be on the one to break this news to her, when he knew in his heart that he had been the one who instigated this whole nightmare, the entire ordeal that resulted in the death of their unborn child and left his wife in this state that proved to Rhett at least, that hell was right here on earth.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Scarlett, but the baby…" his voice trailed off and he shook his head with sorrow.

Scarlett nodded, tightened her lips and he saw her swallow hard, then avert her eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

Rhett squeezed her hand. He rested his elbows on his knees and bending his head over her hand, laid a light kiss on her knuckles. After a few minutes, he had gathered enough courage to look up at her and was taken aback when he saw tears trailing down her cheeks until they got lost in the hair that curled in tendrils by her ears. His eyes, too, were moist.

"I'm going to call for Doctor Meade now," Rhett told her with a hoarse voice, reluctant to let go of her hand that he held clasped in his. He took a deep breath and was about to rise, when her hand pulled away slightly, then he thought he felt her thumb gently wipe away the moistness on his cheek. He looked up and she had turned back to face him. For a brief instant, he caught a look on her face that he hadn't seen before, but it vanished all too quickly when she took a sharp intake of breath, seemingly caught off guard as another wave of pain made her wince, squeezing more tears from her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Doctor Meade was summoned and Mammy ushered him to Scarlett's room just as Melanie arrived. As reluctant as he was to leave Scarlett, Rhett took the opportunity presented to him when Doctor Meade moved to the bed to start his exam and standing, moved to take his leave so that he could clean up.

He took Scarlett's hand and squeezed it lightly in what he hoped would convey reassurance, looking long and deep into her eyes. "I'll be back, my dear." He hustled across the hall to his own room so fast that he didn't notice her eyes following him. He deftly changed his coffee-soaked pants and shirt, shaved and did what he could to freshen up. He hurried. He wanted to make sure he talked with Doctor Meade before he left. He also wanted to get back in there with Scarlett, but knew he had to see the children, too.

He had to admit, he felt better than he looked when he gazed at his reflection in the mirror above the washstand. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he felt somewhat refreshed and attributed that to his brief conversation with Scarlett and the fact that her fever was lower. She didn't deny that she had called for him. That not only surprised him, but also heartened him. So she actually had called for him. Why, he wondered, but he wasn't about to quibble However, his momentary cheer was suppressed immediately by his next thought. She said that she didn't think he would come. Why wouldn't he come to her if called? He was entirely responsible for her accident. What kind of a husband would he have been if he didn't come when asked? Rhett sighed, sitting down on his bed. He knew the answer to that one. Not a very good husband, he concluded wearily.

Well, if God was granting him a second chance, he would take it. Even if a leopard couldn't change its spots, Rhett was ready to bet that he could. He would try and be a kinder and gentler husband, the one that he had wanted to be the night she agreed to marry him. But what would come of it? Scarlett didn't love him; she told him as much on the stairs: _"No woman would ever want a child from a cad like you! Why I wish it was anybody's baby but yours!"_ The memory of her words was enough to make him cringe and when he looked down, he saw that he had involuntarily balled his fists in repressed rage. Taking a deep breath, he unclenched his hands stretching his fingers wide, inhaled deeply and fought down the memory, replacing it instead with his long forgotten single ambition: winning Scarlett O'Hara's love. He had made it his life's aspiration to woo her with such love and kindness that she couldn't help but share his feelings. He had lost track of that goal of late. Jealousy and anger had blinded him to the exclusion of everything else. Could he set those emotions aside and move on? He doubted his ability to do just that, but there was no other option. He had no other choice. He had to, if not for his sake and hers, but for their family. They may have lost one child due to his stubborn refusal to accept life as it was. Wasn't that enough of a sacrifice? He couldn't risk one iota of future happiness. He had a family to think about. He had Bonnie, and there was Wade and Ella.

Interestingly, as Rhett took account of his many blessings, he did not list his bank account among them. Yes, Rhett Butler was a wealthy man, yet this one time, he wasn't thinking of money. He had a beautiful, charming little girl that he loved beyond everything else and she, in turn, worshiped him. He had two stepchildren that he adored and adored him. Finally, he had a beautiful wife, with whom he was hopelessly and madly in love. Not only was she charming but she was smart and strong and stubborn—and just like him. He didn't doubt that she cared for him—at one time at any rate. After all, they had been good friends—once. What had happened to that friendship? It seemed they hardly ever talked anymore, but at one time, they would talk for hours on end. Rhett remembered back to the days when Scarlett was pregnant with Ella and he would plan each day to meet her while she made her rounds for the lumber mill. She always seemed surprised when he pulled up alongside her carriage. Surely she realized that he planned his day around her schedule, ostensibly to protect her, but also to steal a small portion of her away from Frank. On those afternoon drives, he shared her thoughts and feelings and could secretly pretend that she was his even if it was pure torture to see her carrying Frank's baby. He did his best to set aside his feelings of jealousy then and when he had, they had thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. He was sure she took as much enjoyment in their time together as he did. And, they had talked about everything from his father to his adventures in California and anecdotes about his many trips to Nassau and England. She told him about the animosity that existed between her and Suellen, long before Frank came into the picture. She told stories of how her father came to own Tara and her mother's aristocratic upbringing. With a deep sadness, she even confided to him that as much as she had loved her mother, she suspected that her mother wasn't very happy and acknowledged that she never shared laugher or warm, loving embraces with her and had longed to romp and giggle with her like the Tarleton girls did with their mother.

With that thought, Rhett had a sudden realization that Scarlett was, perhaps, repeating the same pattern with her children. He didn't doubt that she loved them; she just wasn't the most loving and openly affectionate of mothers. This wouldn't be so obvious, he acknowledged, if Melanie Wilkes wasn't such a permanent fixture in their lives; Scarlett's maternal instincts paled by comparison to Melanie's. Whereas, if Scarlett's mothering were to be evaluated on its own merits, it was admirable. During the siege, she had made sure that Wade was safe and never went hungry to the extent that she often went to bed hungry. Oh, she never admitted that fact to him but he knew it was true. After the war, while they were at Tara, she must have subsisted on next to nothing, giving her meager share of food to Wade for had looked healthy and had grown inches when Rhett first saw him again shortly after Scarlett and Frank married, whereas Scarlett was undeniably thin and drawn. When they had moved into the Peachtree Street house, Wade had dragged Rhett into his room to proudly show off his belongings. Rhett remembered Wade taking down his father's sword from the wall and saying, "Mother saved this for me from the Yankees." Scarlett had never mentioned that story to Rhett, so he probed and Wade filled in the details. They were broken and sketchy details, but nevertheless, Rhett was able to piece the whole story together and it only made him admire Scarlett more than he already did. Here was a woman who had cared about nothing more than getting a new bonnet and flirting with the county boys before the war and in a few short years, she was standing up to a Yankee deserter in Tara's front parlor to save a war relic for her son. On top of that, the bastard had left his calling card by setting fire to Tara, a fire, Wade said, Scarlett had put out alone until Melanie had joined the fight with her. Hell, if Wade was to believed, and he doubted the boy could make up such a story, Scarlett had even caught fire and it was Melanie who saved her. A woman doesn't do that without loving her child to distraction, yet Scarlett had never spoken of this event.

Ella was a different matter entirely. Instead of fighting off hunger, Scarlett had spent Ella's early years fighting to keep the wolf away from the door of her store and the mills. She managed both endeavors while her invalid husband gossiped with Aunt Pitty or laid in bed wheezing with a head cold or suffering from his gout. She had to be the head of the household. She didn't have time to be a mother.

With Bonnie, Scarlett was entirely different yet again. Scarlett loved Bonnie, Rhett readily admitted to himself, and tried to be a good mother. Her efforts were often derailed and that was his doing. Yet, despite his affront to undermine her efforts, she kept trying. He would occasionally catch a look of jealousy in her eyes when he played with Bonnie and would think victoriously, "Ah, yes, now she misses my attention. Good! Please God," he prayed, "let her know how I feel, give her just a sip of the bitter poison I've been drinking all these years." Then, he would give Scarlett a nasty smirk and purposely overindulge Bonnie or deliberately take up Bonnie's cause and give the child her way after Scarlett had told her no.

Because it was a responsibility he did not want to any part in, Rhett forced Scarlett into the role of disciplinarian with little room for anything else; Scarlett was the voice of reason, Rhett provided the fun. Rhett knew it was like giving Bonnie the choice between broccoli or sweets; there was no contest he was the candyman. And still, Bonnie loved her mother. Still, Bonnie constantly cried for Scarlett during their trip to Charleston and asked after her until Rhett had uncharacteristically snapped at her, "For heaven's sake, Bonnie! Stop it, now! This instant! We'll be home soon enough and you'll see your mother!"

What was his parting shot at Scarlett again? Oh, yes, he remembered. _"Why a cat's a better mother than you!"_ "What a cad I am," Rhett said aloud, slumping his shoulders with remorse as he sat on the bed. His assertion certainly wasn't true. Scarlett had a loving heart and she loved all her children. She certainly loved her family, her mother and father. She loved Tara. Yes, she was capable of love. It just galled him that she wasn't capable of loving him. Could he still change that? At one time, he thought he could, but now…well…his thoughts wavered between uncertainty and downright disbelief. And yet…and yet…there was still a lingering ember of hope that was starting to flame in his heart again, hope that had sparked when he awoke from his nightmare this morning to find her green eyes watching him intently. He was struck by the fact that she had shed a tear when he told her about the baby. Did she lie when she told him that she didn't want it? He had no doubt that the baby was his. He had accused her of infidelity yet, he knew she had been faithful to him. God, why did he goad her on the stairs the way he did? Could she have been happy about the baby? Had she wanted it, wanted his child? If so, why didn't she tell him? She didn't because he didn't give her a chance to. Yet, just this morning, he could have sworn that he saw remorse in her eyes when she looked back at him. God, what a mess life was, he thought.

The questions swirling around was making his head spin. Coupled with his empty stomach and lack of sleep, he found himself developing a throbbing headache and he rubbed his temples to ease some of the strain. He exited his room, walking as he tucked his shirt into the waistband of his trousers, and nearly bumped into Doctor Meade, who was closing the door to Scarlett's room.

"How is she?" Rhett asked abruptly.

"Well, her fever is down, for now. We'll have to see what happens this evening. The biggest problem we have right now is managing her pain. When she was unconscious, it wasn't as problematic as it is now. You see, she's conscious and all too aware of what's happened, aware of the pain. She needs to eat something to get her strength back, yet to eat, she has to be awake. When she's awake, well…she has to deal with the pain—"

"I see where you're going with this," Rhett interrupted. "She's damned if she's unconscious and damned if she's awake."

"That sums up the situation adequately," responded Doctor Meade, stroking his goatee.

"So where does that leave us?"

"I've given her a small dose of laudanum for the pain. I want to avoid any morphine because that would knock her out completely. The dose of laudanum I gave her will allow her to sleep for a few hours. When she wakes up, she needs to down fluids and get something into her stomach."

"What do we do for the pain then?"

"Nothing. She'll have to grit her teeth and bear it," returned Doctor Meade as if pronouncing a penance on Rhett. "Only after she's eaten something can she have another dose. I'll be back again tomorrow morning. Good day, Captain Butler." Doctor Meade stated down the stairs and without turning to look back called out. "I left specific dosing instructions with Melanie and Mammy. They'll take care of it."

"But wait…" called Rhett after him as he, too, started down the stairs. "Is she awake now?"

"No, she out," Doctor Meade answered, opening the front door.

"How long will she be sleeping?"

"A couple of hours at the most."

Rhett turned and went back upstairs just in time to catch Melanie, coming out of Scarlett's room. "Oh, good, Captain Butler. I was just coming to find you. Mammy is sitting with Scarlett now but I can stay with her while you get some rest."

"Thank you, Miss Melly, but as I said yesterday, if I have to wait around, I'd just as soon do it with Scarlett. If I'm not with her, I'll go crazy wondering—"

"I understand that, but you need your rest and—"

"I tell you what. I'm going to eat breakfast with the children. I'll keep them occupied for a bit this morning. However, I want to be there, with Scarlett, when she wakes up. Would you trade places with me then and watch over the children?"

"Absolutely, Captain Butler. I can take them to my house and they can stay for a couple of days. Go on now. I'll see to Scarlett and when you're ready, just let me know."

"Thank you, Miss Melly."

* * *

Rhett was just finishing up breakfast with the children when Mammy came into the dining room to tell him that Scarlett was waking up. Ella and Wade were finishing their soft-boiled eggs and Bonnie was relishing her piece of cornbread, which explained why her face was smeared with strawberry jam.

"No, Captain Butler, she's not awake, but she's restless and I think she's comin' to," reported Mammy.

"Thank you, Mammy. I'll be right up." He set down his coffee cup and looked at each of the three children in turn. "So, now you'll be staying with Aunt Melly as I told you."

"Is Mother going to be all right?" asked Wade.

"Yes, Wade. Doctor Meade is taking very good care of her."

"Please don't let Mother die," piped in Ella with a quiet voice, keeping her eyes on her egg cup.

"Ella! Don't you worry about that, sweetheart!" Rhett reached over to Ella's chair and pulled the up and into his lap. "There, honey. Your mother is going to be just fine, you'll see."

Ella's eyes brightened. She loved getting her stepfather's attention. It seemed that sometimes days would go by when she wouldn't even see him. He was either traveling or playing with Bonnie. It felt nice to be cuddled and hugged and despite the fear for her mother that clutched her heart, she smiled up to the only man she knew as her father.

"Muver can't die!" wailed Bonnie, repeating the words she heard Wade and Ella use that morning. She scrambled over to her father's side and climbed onto his lap, which forced him to juggle Ella to his other knee.

"Sweetie, she's not going to die. Now, listen to me, all of you," Rhett commanded. Only Wade seemed to be above the fray, standing stoically at his place at the table, trying desperately to look older than his nine-and-a-half years but unable to fully contain his emotions as his eyes glassed over with tears. "I believe your mother is over the worst. As I told you, she fell down the stairs and she's hurt pretty bad, but I think—I hope—the worst is over." He looked at the three faces before him to ascertain their comprehension of the situation before continuing. "She's going to be sleeping a lot for the next few days and I want to be sure I'm here to make her comfortable. That's why I'm asking you to spend a few days with Aunt Melly where you can have fun and won't have to worry about being quiet—"

"But can't we see her first," begged Wade.

"Wade, I'll make a deal with you. The minute you all come home from Aunt Melly's we'll plan a big get well party for your mother, how's that?"

"Hurray!" cried Ella.

"I like parties," joined in Bonnie.

"Wade?" Rhett noticed that he was the only one who wasn't clapping for joy. "How does that sound to you?"

Wade swallowed hard, pushed back his shoulders and raised his chin. At that precise moment, Rhett saw only Scarlett in him. There was no Charles in this boy's demeanor. He had the proud pointed chin that belied his Irish stubbornness, so Rhett was not surprised at his words: "That sounds fine, Uncle Rhett. I would like to see mother now, but I'm sure what you say is for the best."

"Thank you, Wade. You're growing up, son. You are growing into a fine young man. Your mother would be proud. She is proud—and she loves all of you," Rhett finished.

Ella climbed down from his lap as Rhett started to stand up, but Bonnie held tight. "Now, sweetheart, you have to go with Mammy now. I'll see you all in a couple of days." He pulled Ella back and gave her a kiss on her head. "She'll be all right, honey. I promise," he said, hoping he wouldn't be proven to be a liar. Ella held briefly to his hand and Rhett noticed for perhaps the first time that Ella, at nearly five years of age, was outgrowing her awkward baby stage and was starting to resemble Scarlett, too. It was her eyes, he thought. They were the same shade of green. How had he not noticed that before?

He shook his head and tried to rise again, but Bonnie only tightened her grip. Rhett looked down into her eyes and imagined for the thousandth time that this is exactly how Scarlett must have looked as a child. Why was he seeing Scarlett everywhere he looked? Yes, Wade and Ella did resemble Scarlett in their various characteristics, yet Bonnie was Scarlett personified. Bonnie's bright eyes were blue, but sparkly, framed with long, sooty black eyelashes. Her cheeks were a bright pink and still wet with her tears. Her raven hair was tumbled down her back in unruly curls and her red ribbon, which had only been put in her hair an hour or so before, was already askew.

"I love you," she said tearfully.

"I love you, too, sweetheart," Rhett responded ruefully. The children followed Mammy out of the dining room and Rhett turned to climb up the long staircase to Scarlett's room. Oh, the irony of it all, he thought. Bonnie looked so much like Scarlett. Now, if only, he could see her, his wife, speak the words to him that Bonnie had just spoken.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Ah, Madame, you've woken just in time. The most highly desirable restaurant in all of Atlanta just opened for business. Our specials aujourd'hui are—" Rhett stepped aside with a flourish and casually tossed an open napkin across his left arm as he bowed from the waist and revealed a tray of items with his right hand. "Let's see, here, we have chicken broth. It, my lady, is the best in the city. If that is not to your liking, we have tea—sweetened with your choice of sugar or honey. If you've come with a heartier appetite, we'd like to offer our special toast recipe—lightly toasted to a golden caramel color and buttered, or, if you'd prefer, we offer a delectable strawberry jam. And, last, but certainly not least, our spécialité of the house, a carafe of cool, refreshing water. And finally, Madame, a rose for a rose." He indicated a crystal bud vase with a single red rose. "Magnifique! If I do say so myself. Madame, what is your pleasure?"

Scarlett eyed his smiling face and surveyed the tray but only wrinkled her nose. "That's all you have to offer?" she sniffed. "That's pretty meager fare, sir. I'm afraid everything looks pretty distasteful to me. You may take it all back to the kitchen. I won't eat a bite. I demand to see the proprietor." Her voice was weak and not much above a whisper, but she gamely played along.

"Oh, Madame, you wound me. I am the proprietor and we aim to please. I am your humble servant. What can I do to embellish this, as you say, meager fare?"

"Serving something with some flavor would be a good start."

"Well, let's see what we can do with what we have…hmmm," he said, scanning the tray. "Ahh, how's this? Here's a cup of chamomile tea, sweetened with honey. Ooo la la! Then, let's see, I can add some mint to the cool water. That should add a little flair."

"That's better, I guess."

"Good!" he said, but the quickly dropped the façade, his face turning serious. "How are you feeling, Scarlett?"

"Strange…I don't know. I feel very, umm, disconnected." When she caught the quizzical look on his face, she continued. "I hear my voice like it is coming from the other side of the room. Sometimes it is coming from above me. It's very odd. Even when I touch the blankets with my hand, my fingertips feel all tingly, like the blanket is pricking my fingertips and then it is smooth again. How badly did I hit my head anyway?"

"I don't know if what you describe is a result of the concussion or a result of the laudanum."

"Well, if it is the laudanum, I don't want any more. I don't like this feeling. It's too strange. I feel jumpy and…and…Oh, I don't know. I can't even think—clearly. And, I want to sit up, but—" She grimaced again as another wave of pain rolled through her.

"Scarlett, Doctor Meade wants you to have the laudanum for the pain, but not too much of it because he wants you to be awake enough to eat something so that you regain your strength. You haven't eaten for more than three days. He also wants you to lay flat until he instructs otherwise, so I'm here to help." He put some mint leaves in a glass, poured water on top and brought the glass to lips. "If I may? Now, what would you like to start with? Toast with…hmmm, jam?"

She remembered him serving her breakfast in bed on their honeymoon in New Orleans and while there were eggs in rich sauces and bacon, she had always bypassed them all in favor of starting in on toast or biscuits, smothered in jam, first. Scarlett nodded, then licked her lips and wiped a drip of water that was running down her chin.

"Sorry, I guess you're a better nurse than I am," Rhett said, noticing that he spilled some of the water on the top sheet.

She watched as Rhett took the toast and smeared it heavily with jam and cut it in half. "Here," he said, handing her a napkin. "I'll hold it for you." He brought the toast to her mouth and she took a small bite. He continued holding it and studying her while she ate. She kept her eyes down, focusing on the toast or the window, anywhere but at Rhett. For the first time since she awoke, an awkward silence fell between them. Rhett was the first one to break the quiet.

"Scarlett, there's something I need to ask you?" He posed this as a question, unsure about her readiness to talk.

"Hmmm?" she responded, continuing to focus on the toast and taking an inordinately long time to chew the small bites she was taking. He took that as an invitation to continue. Shifting in the chair to find a more comfortable position, he leaned into her so that she could take another bite of toast and took a deep breath before pursuing the topic that was at the top of his mind.

"Scarlett? When we spoke earlier, you said that you didn't think I would come when you called for me. Why did you think that?" There, it was out. He leaned back in his chair, giving her the space to answer.

"What do you mean?" Her eyes suddenly darted to the door and Rhett wondered if she was looking for an escape.

"You seemed surprised that I was with you when you woke up. I told you I came the moment you called for me and you said, 'I didn't think you'd come.' Do you remember telling me that this morning?"

"I really don't know what I remember, but given the state of my mind right now, I certainly can't argue with you."

"I don't want to argue, Scarlett. I'm just curious as to why you wouldn't think I'd come if you wanted me here with you."

"Really? You really wonder about that? You, Rhett Butler, who is always saying that I can't see something unless it is right under my nose wonders why I wouldn't think you'd come if I asked you? Now who is missing the elephant in the room?" Her eyes were no longer staring out the window or focusing intently on the doorway; they were riveted to Rhett's. Her voice never rose much above a whisper. She didn't have the strength to shout as was her style. Yet, it was clear that his prodding words had lured her out of her self-imposed cave of silence and with what little strength she had, she was ready to do combat with him, the same as always.

"Look, Scarlett, it isn't my intention to agitate you." Rhett, who had long been accustomed to Scarlett's temper, was taken aback by her assertion. He started to respond with his typical sarcasm, but held back, remembering his promise of earlier. Her words were not spoken with venomous anger. She was talking calmly but he could tell she was angry and he honestly didn't know why. She had finished half a slice of toast and he held out the other half to her.

"No, thank you," she said and shaking her head. Another awkward silence fell between them. It was only a moment or two of quiet, but it felt like eons to both of them. The only sound in the room was a clinking sound as Rhett rested the knife back on the plate and absently went about tidying the breakfast tray. Finally, Scarlett, pulled the blanket up under her chin and, turning her face back to the door, muttered, "It's no use."

"What do you mean? What's no use?"

Scarlett sighed deeply, cringing again with pain at the intake of breath. "You are full of questions this morning, aren't you?"

"My dear, you are the one who is answering all of my questions with more questions. What's no use? I hope you don't mean that it is no use getting well. Or, my dear, do you mean that talking with me is of no use? Or, is our marriage of no use? Well?...Well?" His voice increased in volume with each question, commanding her attention, but she dared not look at him. Frustrated, he stood and with his hands in his pockets and began pacing at the foot of her bed, searching for the right words to begin anew. Patience, he reminded himself. Patience, he needed to be patient. Remember how you felt when you thought you lost her. God man, do not forget that, he reminded himself.

"Alright, let me start over." His voice was lower, calmer as he spoke. "Scarlett, please tell me. Please. Maybe I am terribly obtuse. My brain, too, is a bit muddled right now. I'm going on an hour or two of sleep and not much more than that piece of toast to eat either. Nevertheless, I need to know something. Why did you think I wouldn't come to you when you called for me?"

"Why does something like that matter?"

"It matters to me. I need to know the error of my ways. Haven't I been there for you before? When you wanted to dance at the Bazaar, I was there. When you wanted to get out of mourning, I helped you. When you desperately wanted to go home when Atlanta was burning down all around us, I stole a horse and got you out of town. Need I go on? Please tell me why you would think that I would let you down now?" He stopped his pacing and looked at her anxiously for an answer. She looked small and frail in the big bed. Her black hair spread out on the pillow in stark contrast to her pale face, which was nearly as white as the embroidered cotton sheet.

"Yes, you did all of those things and I am enormously grateful." She turned to look back at him and he smiled at her acknowledgement of his deeds. "But Rhett, did you ever think of all the other times I needed you and you weren't there? Where were you when I needed you on the road to Tara when you left me at Rough and Ready? Where were you when I got home only to find my mother dead and my father in another world of his making? Where were you when I discovered my sisters had typhoid and I was the only one left to run Tara? Where were you when the Yankee deserter showed up and I had to kill him? Where were you when the Yankees came back and set fire to Tara? Where were you when I needed the money to pay the taxes on Tara?"

"In jail!" Rhett shouted, unable restrain his silence any longer. "I was in jail if you remember correctly. I would have done anything to help you but my hands were tied. Do you really think I wanted you to sell yourself in marriage to Frank Kennedy for a measly three hundred dollars? If you think that's what I wanted…Hell's afire!" He ran his hand through his hair and resumed his pacing. "Are you through?"

"No!" She gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath as she managed her pain before continuing. "But fine, I'll skip ahead. Let me ask you this. Where were you the morning after Ashley's birthday party and lastly, where were you for the last three months? "

"I was waiting."

"What?"

"I was waiting."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?"

"Scarlett, I am going to ask you once more to answer my original question and then I'll answer every single question you have for me, I swear to you. Do we have a deal?"

"What is all this about," she asked, raising her one eyebrow. "If I remember correctly, you once said that I couldn't be trusted to play straight with you. You said that you couldn't expect the truth, honor or fair dealing from me."

"I also told you once that I have said too God damn many things," he retorted with a huffy breath. Then, regaining some control he continued. "Scarlett…" he began, choosing each word carefully. "We nearly lost you." He settled on using _we_ instead of _I_ despite the bargain he was on the verge of striking with her. He was prepared to open the floodgates of truth, but before he did so, he wanted to double-check and triple-check that all his provisions were safety stored on high ground. "I think that such a crisis as this changes one's approach to life and puts things into a new perspective, wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose." She was quiet and her eyes searched his face, his black eyes. Rhett gazed back at her intently.

"Well, then, I am tired of approaching our marriage like a game of poker, always trying to call the other's bluff. Oh, I admit, I'm a helluva good player. Hell, I used to make my living at it, but this is neither the time nor the place for bluffing. Now, will you answer my question?"

"I told you, I didn't think you'd come."

"My question is why. Why didn't you think I'd come?"

"Because," she stated, absently fingering the lace trim on the ruffled cuffs of her nightgown.

"Because…" he repeated.

"Because…because after the things you said…the things you said on the stairs, I…I…I didn't think you wanted me." Scarlett's hand quickly covered her mouth, almost as if she wanted to stop further admissions from tumbling out.

Rhett plopped down in the chair in the far corner of the room and for once, his mask was gone. In its place was a look of pure astonishment. He took a moment to digest her words before speaking. In turn, Scarlett's breathing had become rapid and with each breath, came staccato bursts of pain.

"You didn't think I wanted you! Good God!" He rose from the chair and resumed his pacing, only now it was rapid and he make quick, sharp turns and his long strides had him crossing the room a half a dozen times over before he spoke again. "Jesus Christ!" His hand brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "That is the furthest thing from the truth!"

"Then, what exactly is the truth?" she shot back, still breathing rapidly. He abruptly stopped his pacing to turn and look at her. Their eyes met in what may have been their first meeting. Both were sizing the other up, each was tentative, neither was sure of the next step.

"The truth, Scarlett, is that I'm sorry. I truly am so sorry. I should have said this the moment you woke up, but I didn't and for that too, I am sorry. Your fall and the death of our child are crosses I'll carry until my dying day. This is my entire fault and I need you to know how very sorry I am. I know that you can never forget all this happening—the fall, the miscarriage, everything—but I hope that you can forgive me. Can you? Do you think?" Rhett looked at Scarlett with eyes that for the first time in his life were full of emotion, pleading for forgiveness and unreservedly, giving Scarlett the upper hand. With one word, she could dash his hopes and, if that happened, all could be lost, he thought. He had never willingly put himself in a position like this. He felt like he was back at the Battle of Franklin and instead of ducking for cover, he was walking across enemy lines wearing a bright red Zouave uniform, providing her the perfect target.

Her breathing continued to accelerate. "I…I…" The words seemed to catch in her throat as her gasps for air came too rapidly for her breathe and her face grimaced in pain and fear.

"Scarlett! Scarlett!" Rhett ran to the door and called out to whoever could hear him. "Pork! Call for Doctor Meade, now! Quickly! It's urgent! Scarlett can't breathe!"

He returned to her side and stilled her flailing arms with his hands. She was trying in a vain attempt to take great, heaving gasps of air to no avail. "Scarlett! Breathe with me. Slowly! Close your mouth and breath through your nose," he commanded. "Breathe with me, slowly. In, out, in, out. Slowly, Scarlett…please! Slowly. No, no, keep your mouth shut. Easy now, easy." His voice was not panicked. It was low, quiet and soothing and ever so slowly, her breathing resumed its normal tempo. When she had regained some stability and she was once again breathing normally on her own, tears from the hysteria of just moments before coursed down her face.

"I…I…was so…scared," she gasped.

"I know, I know," he replied, holding both of her hands in hands. "Don't try to talk now. Shhh, just breathe slowly. Just breathe slowly."

* * *

When Doctor Meade arrived, he found Scarlett lying in bed calmly, breathing with Rhett in tandem. "What happened?" asked Doctor Meade.

"We were talking and Scarlett's breathing became faster and increasingly rapid. Then, all of a sudden, she was gulping for air to fast, she couldn't breathe at all," explained Rhett. "I suggested she breathe through her nose and slow down her breathing. That helped."

"So you read that article, too?" sighed Doctor Meade.

"If you mean the story in the newspaper article about the military physicians who studied veterans suffering from shortness of breath, then yes. But I've heard of neurasthenia back when Doctor George Beard wrote about it in '69."

"I don't know how much stock I put in all these new theories," returned Doctor Meade, who turned to speak to Scarlett. "This Doctor Beard that your husband refers to claims the shortness of breath you experienced is a nervous disorder associated with weakness and fatigue, called neurasthenia."

"Yes, and recent reports by military physicians who studied soldiers suggest this syndrome, which is also referred to as irritable heart or soldier's heart, can occur in people in private life as well. Isn't that right, Doctor Meade?" added Rhett.

Rhett's facile knowledge of the condition annoyed Doctor Meade, who was unaccustomed to anyone adding to or questioning his theories, diagnoses or explanations. He was reluctant to delve further into this conversation with a layman, but couldn't sidestep the issue. "True. They suggest that soldiers and civilians who are under duress, anxious or depressed may repress all their feelings. Without an outlet, these feelings can be manifested in a variety of ways, one of which is shortness of breath. Scarlett, you don't seem to exhibit any of the other symptoms, which can run the gamut from heart palpitations to abdominal distension, headache and the list goes on with various maladies.

"So, if what your doctor-husband is saying is indeed true, it would indicate that you are fatigued, which is true, under duress, which is also true, or have some unspoken feelings that are bottled up. I suppose given your condition that diagnosis is very plausible," he said, stroking his goatee. "Then, again, Captain Butler, you said you were talking when this happened. Did your discussion bring on this condition?"

Rhett quickly looked up at Scarlett as her eyes darted away to avoid his. The silent exchange was not lost on Doctor Meade. "Ahh, this may be a created case of neurasthenia," he said, emphasizing the word created. "That being the case, I would ask you to take your leave Captain Butler and let me have some time alone with my patient."

"Yes, Doctor Meade, it could very well be caused by neurasthenia but to infer that I—"

"I'm not inferring, Captain Butler. I am saying quite plainly that in my estimation whatever the two of you were talking about prior to this so-called bout of neurasthenia may have actually brought on the attack itself. Now, unless you want to risk your wife's health even further, I would suggest that you leave her alone while I visit with her. And, from this point hence, when you are with her, I would urge you to discuss neutral topics, such as the weather. Now, please—"

"No, Doctor Meade. What we were speaking about is entirely between us. And, I don't think we should be talking as if Scarlett wasn't even here and didn't have an opinion of her own. Scarlett, what do you say?"

"Captain Butler, this is highly irregular," said Doctor Meade, taking note of Scarlett's silence. He walked purposefully to the door and opened it wide for Rhett to make his exit. In the meantime, Rhett stared at Scarlett, his eyes boring into her, but she did not look at him. She bit her lower lip in a look and twisted the wedding ring on her finger in a pose that Rhett knew well. She was torn between what she thought society and her conscience wanted her to do and what she wanted to do.

"Well?" questioned Doctor Meade somewhat impatiently.

"Scarlett, please say something," Rhett pleaded.

"Captain Butler?" Doctor Meade actually pitied the man. He had never really liked Scarlett; she was a fast piece of baggage, but still his loyalty was to her, his patient. A lot of people tore her down for being such a stern businesswoman, but that is one attribute that redeemed her in his eyes, though he would never admit it to his wife, who had her own ideas. This man had brought shame to him and many others with his scoundrel ways, but he could see that for all his faults, he loved Scarlett. In fact, looking at the two of them, he could see that they loved each other deeply. He never really understood what brought them together so soon after Frank Kennedy's death. Yes, there were rumors about the two of them for years, but he doubted that they married for love. Yet, looking at the two of them now, he couldn't help but think that something had come between them. Clearly they were bound together in love, but the strands that connected them were tenuous at best and like a spider's delicate web, it could be blown apart at the slightest provocation. Something was amiss and for whatever reason, Scarlett was shutting Rhett out. If it had been the other way around, he would have given credence to the gossip that his own wife had a hand in spreading around town about Scarlett and Ashley. However, he could not help but think that something had transpired between them prior to her fall and again within the last hour that was putting Scarlett's health in peril. He would be breaking the Hippocratic oath he had taken if he ignored the signs and didn't abide by his patient's wishes.

"Scarlett?" Rhett had walked to the door and turned one last time to plead to his wife for a response. When she didn't say anything, he shrugged his shoulders and headed out the door.

"Doctor Meade, please." It was Scarlett's voice, low and quiet, but firm. "Please, I want Rhett to stay. Just now he saved me from what I believed to be certain death. Please—" She was looking at Rhett, who had stopped, his back framed in the doorway. "Rhett, please stay."

"If that is what you want, then fine. Are you certain?" said Doctor Meade.

Rhett had turned to look at Scarlett and she returned his stare and responded to him directly, not Doctor Meade. "Yes, I am sure."

Rhett lost no time returning to her side with a smile a look on his face that was an interesting commingling of relief and gratitude. He had asked for her forgiveness and while she hadn't forgiven him in so many words, she had taken a first step and placed a measure of trust in him. Perhaps there's still hope, he thought. If I treat her fairly and honestly, maybe she will do the same for me. He wouldn't ask for her love yet, only her understanding.

He returned to his seat next to Scarlett and took her hand in his and she gave him a faint smile.

"Thank you, Scarlett."

"Thank you."

"Where are all my things?" asked Doctor Meade as he rummaged through is medical bag. "I must have taken the wrong bag. I need to get my other bag from my carriage. I will be right back."

As soon as Doctor Meade left the room, Scarlett turned to face Rhett directly. "We struck a deal earlier and you promised to answer all my questions, and I have a boatload of them for you, Captain."

"A promise is a promise. Get all your questions out in the open. We'll talk some more, regardless of what Doctor Meade says. If what you experienced just now was neurasthenia, it will be healthier for you to get everything you have bottled up out of your system."

**A/N: Irritable heart, soldier's heart, Da Costa's syndrome is also referred to as effort syndrome, neurocirculatory asthenia and, today, hyperventilation syndrome. N****eurasthenia is the term used in the 1800s for what we now call stress.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Scarlett slept for two days straight. During that time, Rhett stayed with her throughout the night, sleeping in the chair with his head cocked at an awkward angle, and throughout the better part of the daylight hours. Each morning, Mammy sat at her side and only then did Rhett grab a few moments of sleep in his room or take a moment to supervise the household staff and attend to other business matters. One issue, in particular, nagged at him until he sent Pork to the sawmills and the store to pick up their ledgers. When Pork returned to the house with them, Rhett sat with them in Scarlett's room and for hours on end he poured over the long columns of numbers while he made notes.

There was not much anyone could do. Doctor Meade said that the laudanum had relaxed Scarlett's mind and body enough to allow to sleep and to heal. He told Rhett that her prolonged sleep was no cause for concern; she wasn't regressing, and he expected her to wake soon. In the meantime, all anyone could do was just sit, wait and pray. Rhett thought that Doctor Meade was more than likely right. Scarlett slept peacefully now. She wasn't suffering with the frightening, fever-inspired terrors that had gripped her immediately after her fall. Now, she appeared to be in a deep, restful slumber and while he knew that it was exactly what Scarlett's body needed, he couldn't help but want her to wake up if only for the selfish reassurance that it would give him in lessening some of his guilt.

Rhett folded his tall frame into the overstuffed chair in an effort to grab a few hours sleep, but rest had evaded him until about five in the morning, when he finally fell into a deep but uneasy slumber. It was then that Scarlett's eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was Rhett slumped at an odd angle in her reading chair, which had been pulled up alongside her bed. He was unshaven. His shirt was open at the neck and rumpled when his attire was nothing if not always neatly pressed. Scarlett was surprised to find him there even though he had been in the same position when she had last awoken.

Surprise may not have been the word for what she felt. For weeks now, Scarlett held the belief that he didn't want her; she didn't matter to him in the least. The cold stare he gave her when she had beamed at him upon his return home with Bonnie had shook her to her core and that image had dominated her dreams since the accident and never quite left her in her even in her brief waking moments. The insults and accusations he had further flung at her had decimated her as she was so totally unprepared for his attack, standing on the steps armed with nothing but a smile to welcome him and Bonnie home because she had missed them so desperately.

So, to find Rhett sitting by her side was confusing. Scarlett was a woman who liked things either black or white. The gray middle ground she found herself in now was foreign territory. The mass of contradictions that was Rhett made her head ache if she thought too hard. It was true, Scarlett had to admit, he had been so kind since she awoke. And, when she couldn't breathe, he had saved her life, despite what Doctor Meade may have thought. But still…his words kept reverberating in her head, hateful words, cold words, words that tore at her heart and ripped to shreds all the hopes she had built up during his absence. "Oh, how could I have missed him so? How could I have ever thought he loved me? And to think that she wanted him home so he would make her laugh!" She brought her hand up to her mouth in an effort to stifle a sob. She gulped and swallowed the sob instead, which made her throat constrict and her eyes water.

Now, he was taking back all those hateful words. He said he was sorry and he was so remorseful that she believed him. Was she being gullible? Naïve? Was he telling the truth? He had pushed and prodded her because he seemed to desperately want to know why she was afraid that he wouldn't come to her when she called him. "Well, wasn't it obvious," she thought. "He didn't want me!" Yet, he said that was the furthest thing from the truth. He claimed he was through playing their marriage like a poker game, bluffing and hiding his cards. "Oh, why does he talk in all these riddles?" she wondered. "Well, if he is going to give me carte blanche to ask my questions, I will, but in due time. He promised me the truth, and I'll get it."

She knew that he had given her a valuable gift by agreeing to answer any and all of her questions, but it was a gift with conditions. Scarlett remembered her excitement when her father arrived home from a trip to Atlanta to buy supplies two weeks before Christmas when she was just six years old. He brought with him a huge, brightly wrapped gift that he promised he had picked out just for her. Scarlett jumped up and down, unable to contain her boundless joy, until her father told her she had to wait until Christmas Day to open it. A sudden flood of disappointment diluted her joy and she was apprehensive knowing that she would never be able to wait a whole 12 days to open the magnificent present. Scarlett felt that same apprehension now. She was excited at the prospect of getting answers to all of her queries, but did she really want the answers to all he questions that plagued her? The truth hurts they say and she didn't think she could handle any more pain. She would do her asking, but she would bide her time. In the meantime, Rhett had chosen to be kind and polite, which was extremely welcome right now, so she would reciprocate and discern what was behind that infernal mask he always wore.

Scarlett sized Rhett up and down as he sat slumped in the chair. His hair was ruffled and he wasn't wearing his boots. His face was calm, but she could see the dark circles under his eyes. Even so, she had to admit he was handsome. It had been a long time since she had the leisure to gaze upon Rhett without him knowing, especially, when he was unaware and so utterly relaxed. His one arm dangling down over the armrest and the other, bent into an odd position under his chin in what was a futile attempt to support his head. Awake, he was never quite at ease; he was always alert; always ready to pounce and attack at the slightest provocation. Since she banished him from her bedroom, she had little opportunity to scrutinize him as she did now. She had learned to quickly avert her gaze whenever he caught her staring at him in order to evade his jibes, which always took her down a peg.

She, too, knew that her accident and the loss of the baby had brought them to a crossroads. Life was going to change from this point on. Whether it would change for the better or the worse, Scarlett didn't know.

At this point, Scarlett didn't know much. She only knew that she didn't feel the same about Ashley. His birthday party had lifted the gauzy veil that had softened and blurred the edges of their relationship. Under the glaring, bright light of the party's aftermath, Ashley no longer looked quite so romantic as he did when she had first fallen in love with him. While Ashley's image suffered in her mind under the harsh light of introspection, Rhett now sat before her in stark reality and he looked as handsome as ever.

Suddenly, his head bobbed uncontrollably and when it shot upright, his eyes popped open. "What! What happened?" Rhett asked. When his eyes landed on Scarlett, he regained his bearings. "Are you all right, my dear?"

"Good morning," she said."

"Oh, 'morning," he replied, rubbing his neck and trying to straighten up from the cramped position he had slept in. "What do they say?…There was a crooked man. He walked a crooked mile…"

"Rhett, you slept in the chair all night?"

"For the last four nights to be exact," he retorted, holding his hand against his lower back in a vain attempt to stand up straight. Instead, he continued to hunch over as he took a couple of steps around the room, while he continued to mutter, "and they all lived together in a little crooked house."

"Rhett, you can't keep sleeping like that. Next, Doctor Meade will be here for you."

"Don't think that didn't cross my mind. That's why I asked Pork to find the old army cot that Wade and Beau played with when they camped outside last month. I think it is in the carriage house. But enough about me, how are you feeling?" He asked, as he finally stood up to his full six-feet plus. "I'm delighted to see you awake."

"Heavens, what is so surprising? I feel good though, much better in fact. I guess there is something to be said for a good night's sleep." She smiled, a charming smile Rhett thought. She moved slightly in an effort to sit upright and Rhett quickly moved to her, and placing one knee on the bed at her side, he reached over her to grab the pillow from the other side of the bed. Unable to look anywhere else, Scarlett's eyes were mesmerized by the view just inches above her nose. Rhett's white shirt, open to the waist, revealed the thick mat of black hair that covered his chest. She remembered thinking how strong and unyielding chest that chest was on their honeymoon and today, nearly three years later, her opinion hadn't changed. He reached the pillow and gently raised Scarlett's shoulders before stuffing it under her upper back.

"There, is that better?" he asked, cocking his head to look down at her. His voice and then his stare, startled her from her thoughts and she looked up at him, nodded, then exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath. "Good! My dear, you had two good nights of sleep and two full days, too. I thought you were Sleeping Beauty waiting for your prince to kiss you awake."

"So did you?" Scarlett asked with a flirtatious smile, while tossing her head and reaching for a glass of water that was on her nightstand.

"Did I what?" Rhett busied himself straightening her pillow, the coverlet and assorted sundries on the nightstand.

"Kiss me awake," Scarlett returned, studying the water in her glass.

"My dear, I couldn't do that unless you thought that I was your prince, your soul mate, your one and only. Isn't that how the story goes?"

"Will you just tell me how long have I been sleeping?"

"Do you remember when Doctor Meade was here?"

"Yes," she answered hesitantly.

"That was two days ago. You had a bout of neurasthenia."

"I remember."

"Before Doctor Meade left, he gave you a dose of laudanum and you went to sleep for the night. You continued sleeping the next day and all through that night. You slept all through yesterday and last night. Now, here we are this morning. That's why I said, it is good to see you awake."

"I can't believe I slept so long, but I really do feel so much better. My head feels so much clearer. Oh, I really do feel good."

"I'm glad, darling." Rhett sat back down in the chair, his hands clasped before him and his eyes scanned the room. His broad smile faded and he seemed reticent to change the pleasant conversation, but he forged ahead. "Do you remember much about the day Doctor Meade was here?"

"Well, yes…and…and thank you."

"For what?"

"For…for…for what you said about the baby."

"Ahhh, so you do remember. I'm glad you remember. And, Scarlett, just in case, anything is still hazy, I'll repeat myself now because it is important. I am sorry, so very sorry. I need you to believe me. Please believe how sorry I am."

"I do. And, oh, Rhett, I'm sorry, too. I…I said things that I shouldn't have said…I wanted the baby so, so much."

"Did you, really?" he asked earnestly, a queer look in his eye that Scarlett couldn't meet, so she looked away.

"Ummm," she nodded affirmatively, unable to voice the words for fear of making the loss all too real. She took a breath and changed the subject. "How are the children?"

"They are fine. They are worried about you."

"They've been so quiet. Can I see them?"

"They are with Melanie. She offered to keep them for a few days so that I could give you my undivided attention."

"Oh, is that what I'm getting. I know that you've pointed out that my imagination is quite limited, but I have to say, I never would have imagined you in the role of nursemaid if I didn't see it with my own eyes."

"I think I pull off the role with aplomb if I do say so myself."

"You are doing an adequate job."

"Only adequate? Fie, Mrs. Butler! However, I am relatively new to the job, so I hope that you'll give me time to prove my worthiness."

"Well—"

"I'll take that has a yes," he cut in. "Now, let's get to the important matters at hand. You must be starving."

"I am," Scarlett agreed.

"Good. I'll get you some breakfast. What else can I do?"

"Would you send in Mammy?"

"What do you need Mammy for? I'll help you."

Scarlett turned her eyes down and a blush crept into her cheeks. "If I admit you're doing an excellent job, will you get me Mammy? I'd like to freshen up a bit. I must look a fright."

"I understand, but let me tell you this. You've been through an awful lot this last week and seeing you awake and smiling is the most beautiful image I've laid eyes on in a long, long time." He stood beaming at her and she couldn't deny that his smile was genuine, so much like the smiles he routinely bestowed on Bonnie.

"Rhett, you always were a smooth talker. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a simpering belle flirting with a prospective beau."

"Well, it's good then that you know me so well, isn't it, my dear? I'm afraid I'd be one homely belle."

"Oooo!" snickered Scarlett at the thought. "You're right there. Will you please send Mammy in?" she added with a huff, but any exasperation was smothered with a shy smile.

"All right, all right! I'm going, I'm going," he said as he started hustling toward the door. "But seriously, will you be all right for a few moments alone?" He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

"Yes, yes. Now, go. Food and Mammy, now go!"

He stuck his head back around the doorframe. "Food and Mammy? In that order?"

"Yes, please."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Rhett delivered Scarlett's breakfast tray and he had no sooner put it down when Mammy arrived. After Scarlett assured him that she had everything she needed, he left the room to clean himself up but not before he promised her that he'd be back soon. His attentiveness left Scarlett in awe. She hadn't felt this pampered since their honeymoon. Rhett's sudden turn in behavior was curious and Scarlett wanted answers, answers she was sure she could get from Mammy, who always seemed to know everything that went on in their household.

Scarlett ate while Mammy tidied the room and before she was finished, Lou had delivered a basin of steaming water to the room and a fresh batch of towels. Scarlett chatted merrily with Mammy, who was delighted that her mistress had turned the corner and appeared to be well on the road to recovery.

"I sure is happy that you are awake and feelin' bettah, Miss Scarlett. I done miss you something awful," said Mammy, as she cleared away the dirty linens and wet towels from the bed. She had given Scarlett a sponge bath, freshened her bed sheets and clothed Scarlett in a crisp, sleeveless white cotton nightgown. Scarlett remembered when Rhett gave it to her as part of her trousseau, having purchased it from a clothier in Paris. It had a drawstring neckline that was trimmed with an embroidered, scalloped edge. Scarlett felt very pretty in it and a little risqué. She had never worn it before. She preferred long-sleeved nightgowns, but the July heat, coupled with the lack of a breeze coming through her windows, made this nightgown the only practical choice. "It ain't fittin'" Mammy had grumbled, but Scarlett threw her a few smiles and won Mammy over, so pleased was Mammy that Scarlett was getting back to be her old self.

"I'm happy, too, Mammy, especially now that I don't look like a fright." Even her long hair was brushed and now was neatly tied back in a red ribbon. She was thinner and quite pale, but sitting there, dwarfed in the enormous bed, she looked very young and very pretty. "Everyone seems to be happy—me, you and even Rhett. Why I don't think I've ever seen him act to cheerful, except of course, when Bonnie was b—" Scarlett stopped short, suddenly aching at the loss of the new baby, the only baby she had wanted, and her eyes glassed over.

Mammy reached over and took Scarlett's hand in hers. "Miss Scarlett, I is sorry about de baby. I know you wanted it so."

Scarlett sniffed and wiped her eyes with her hand. "Well, maybe it is for the best. I'm not sure Rhett wanted to be a father again."

"Miss Scarlett, I have to 'pologize to you 'bout what I said about you and Mist' Rhett."

"What, Mammy?"

"'Bout you being mules in a horse's harness." Mammy's eyes dropped down in shame. "I's so sorry about that. I 'pologized to Mist' Rhett long ago, but I never tole you I was sorry."

"Why? What changed your mind?"

"Well, Miss Scarlett, when you done fall, you was bad off. I thought we was going to lose you. You have always been so strong, but this was different. I could feel you slippin' away and thar wasn't anythin' I could do to pull you back.

"Then, you started callin' out for Mist' Rhett. I knew it wasn't fittin' for him to be here wid you, but I knew that he was the only one who could help you. De doctah didn't want him in here wid you, but I done tole him an' tole him that mah lamb needed Mist' Rhett. He was the only one who could help her and he did, thank de Lord."

"I didn't _need_ Rhett, Mammy," Scarlett was quick to point out. "Besides, I didn't think you heard me calling for Rhett. I tried to call out as loud as I could, but even my scream was nothing but a whisper."

"I know, but your mammy done hear you. An I don't care whut you say, you needed him."

"I really didn't think he'd come, Mammy. I still can't believe he came."

"Now why would you think that?"

"Oh, Mammy, you know better than anyone."

"Yas'm I's know, but Miss Scarlett, you have not 'zactly been the best wife a man could ask for—"

"Oh, but Mammy—"

"Now, don't you try to talk around this ole mammy. I's know you. I know you been chasin' Mist' Ashley since the day of the barbeque at Twelve Oaks—"

"Mammy!"

"Hush you mouth! Don't lie to me and tell me somethin' that just ain't true. Let me finish, Miss Scarlett. Now, I know about you and Mist' Ashley. An' I's know how you done steal Mist' Frank out from under your sister's nose." Scarlett made a move to open her mouth, but Mammy stopped her before she could utter one word. "Wait and hear me out, Miss Scarlett. I dun tole you how I understood whut you did with Mist' Frank. I know it was to hep all of us at Tara. I know whut you did for all of us.

"What I didn' understan' was you marryin' Capt' Butler. I thought he was trash, the worst scoundrel I ever saw. But you know, Miss Scarlett, now I think that marryin' him was the best thing you ever done."

"You do?" she asked incredulously. "What changed your mind, Mammy?"

"You done marry him for love, even if you don't know it yet," Mammy said with a big grin and slapping both of her hands on her thighs, threw back her head and laughed a low laugh that rumbled throughout her big body. "That's what you done. You married for love and the funniest part is mah lamb don' know it."

"Hush your mouth, Mammy! Someone might hear you!" Scarlett quickly looked toward the door and only calmed down a bit when she saw that it was still securely closed. "Great balls of fire!" Scarlett retorted, still keeping her voice low yet finding it difficult. "But…but…" she sputtered, so shocked at Mammy's admission that her mouth hung open in a big, gaping _O_ as though she just opened a treasure chest to find it piled high with gold, silver and mounds of priceless gemstones.

"I tell you somethin' Miss Scarlett. You done changed in the last few months. You were gonna tell me a just now how you didn' love Mist' Ashley and I stopped you. What you was denying was not true. You did love him or you thought you did. But I's know dat you don't love Mist' Ashley anymo. You know why?"

"Mammy, if I wasn't lying in this bed right now, I'd—I'd—Well, I don't know, Mammy, but you've gone too far. How dare you!"

"Ah, now Miss Scarlett," Mammy chided her with guile. "Your secret is safe wid me. Don' be gittin' mad at Mammy. I love you. An' I'm tellin' you, you don' love Mist' Ashley. You love someone else and he loves you."

"What are you saying, Mammy. Rhett? You're saying that I love Rhett and he loves me? How do you know? What have you heard?" Scarlett grabbed Mammy's arm urgently, struggling to keep her voice low.

"I's got eyes, don' I? I see whut's goin' on, don't you?"

"No, I don't see," Scarlett cried in frustration, her voice becoming louder. "What do you see that I don't?"

"You's smart, Miss Scarlett. I thinks you can figger it out." Mammy just gazed back at Scarlett with a patient face, giving Scarlett a moment to gather her own thoughts.

"Mammy," she sighed. "You're right about a lot of what you've just said. I won't argue with you, but Mammy, how can you think Rhett loves me after all that has happened? And believe me, you don't know everything that has happened and if you did—well—then you'd know how awful things really are."

"I 'no more than you think I 'no. An' I'm tellin' you this because you're mah lamb and I love you. I want you to be happy."

"So tell me, Mammy. What do you know?"

"I 'no dat man loves you mor' dan life itself."

"Mammy, no! You're wrong! If you knew what he said to me before I fell—well, you wouldn't believe it." For some reason Scarlett could not bring herself to speak the atrocious words that Rhett had spoken to at the top of the stairs. How could she tell Mammy or anyone that her own husband had told her, 'Cheer up, maybe you've have a miscarriage'? If she breathed a word of what he said, Mammy would think the worst of him and would never forgive him. Scarlett didn't quite know why she wanted to keep Mammy's opinion of Rhett intact, but for whatever reason, she was loath to undermine Rhett's reputation in Mammy's eyes now.

"Miss Scarlett," Mammy said, lifting Scarlett's chin up so that she could look straight into her eyes. "I heard him. I done heard whut he say ter you and I 'no it was awful. It was. There ain't no doubt 'bout dat. But, he's sorry, too. I 'no dat because I saw him after you fell. He was carryin' you up the stairs yellin' at the top of his lungs. He was cryin' and yellin' for help and he was prayin' to God that you'd live.

"When de doctah got 'ere and shut him outta your room, mah heart broke for him. I thought he was gonna die on de spot. You look at me like you don' believe it, but it's the God's honest truth." Mammy paused in her story to let her words sink in before she continued. "He went to his room and didn' eat, didn' sleep, nuttin'. All he did was wait for you. When Miss Melly got him after I tole her you called, he didn' seem to believe it any mo' than you believe that he came to you when you asked. He kep' askin', 'Miss Melly, did you hear her call fer me?' She said no, and dat's when I tole him dat I heard you. Somethin' got in his head that you wouldn' call for him. He couldn' believe dat you did."

Mammy finished her speech and reached over to caress Scarlett's cheek. Then, with great effort, she pulled her body out of the chair and moved about the room picking up the used linens that needed to be laundered. Just as she opened the door, she turned back to look at Scarlett and shook her head. "Now dat I thinks about it, I take back whut I jus said ter you. You both are still mules in horses' harnesses, but I guess dat's why you belong together. I don' think no one else could put up wid you or him."

* * *

When Mammy left the room, she may have left it and Scarlett fresh and tidy, but Scarlett's mind was littered with emotions, contradictions and questions. Scarlett felt like she was trying to put a puzzle together while missing most of the pieces. A bubble of hope started to give rise in Scarlett's heart, bringing a smile to her lips. Hope—but for what, she wondered. Certainly, she hoped that now, given this new relationship that she and Rhett were building since the accident, they could coexist more peacefully in the same home. Perhaps he would even let her share in some of the games he played with Bonnie and maybe, just maybe, he would make a little room in Bonnie's heart for her, too. But Mammy hinted at so much more. Could everything that Mammy said be true? "But that's ridiculous," Scarlett said aloud, twisting her wedding ring about on her finger.

Begrudgingly she admitted that nothing had been the same since the night of Ashley's party. In its aftermath, particularly after her anger at Rhett's abrupt departure with Bonnie for Charleston faded, she had sat down and analyzed her feelings. At the forefront, were her feelings for Ashley. She didn't feel the same about him since the night of the party when her knight in shining armor turned and ran from the fray. His cowardice in the face of the townspeople still made her wince. No, he wasn't the man she thought he was, the man she had built up in her dreams since she was 14. But did that mean she no longer loved him? Scarlett wasn't so sure.

Then, there were her feelings for Rhett. That night! That night! Oh, Scarlett still trembled in remembrance of the rapture, the all enveloping passion, surrender to someone stronger than she. No one, ever, had made her feel like he did. He used her body and she had reveled in it. If truth be told, she had used his body, too. Did everyone have nights like the one she had? Her mother never even hinted that the marital bed could bring so much pleasure. "Unless—unless she had never experienced something true passion?" Scarlett mused.

After Rhett left for Charleston, Scarlett had missed him. She missed his jibes, his smile, even his mocking laughter. So much of the zest had gone out of life. But did that mean that she loved him? Scarlett wasn't so sure.

Lastly, there was Rhett. He was so hateful on the stairs, but since she regained consciousness he was the epitome of kindness and caring. He gave her carte blanche to ask her questions of him. He stayed with her all night. Mammy said he cared. Scarlett generally trusted Mammy's gut instincts. Mammy was as alert as a cat and seemingly all knowing. Slipping something past Mammy was not an everyday occurrence as Wade, Ella and Bonnie were quickly finding out. Why just last week, Wade and Ella were drawn to the kitchen by the smell of freshly baked cookies. Mammy scolded them soundly, "You can't eat no cookies now! You all will be spoilin' your supper!" And she placed the cookies to cool on a high shelf in the kitchen. Once Mammy was out of sight, Wade, using Ella as his lookout, climbed atop a table to snatch a handful of cookies for the two of them.

Satisfied that they had pulled off the caper undetected, they silently escaped out the back door and burst into uncontrollable laughter. Only then, did Mammy seemingly materialize out of nowhere. She chastised them for going behind her back and doing expressly what she told them not to. The children were dumbfounded. How did she know, they asked. Their eyes grew as huge as Georgia peaches and they ran off toward the carriage house shrieking when she replied: "I's got eyes in de back of my head!"

Yet, even with Mammy's all-knowing instincts, Scarlett doubted that what she said about Rhett's feelings were true. He denied having any feelings for her. He certainly wouldn't have told Mammy about his supposed feelings when he was withholding that same information from his own wife, would he? No, none of it made sense, which only left Scarlett with one recourse. Rhett was being courteous, thoughtful and sincere. To any observer, he appeared a loving husband. Scarlett decided that at this crossroads in their lives she had no choice but to meet him halfway. It was a gutsy move and a risky one. Yet, given the current circumstances, Scarlett reasoned, she had nothing to lose—and—perhaps, everything to gain.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When Rhett returned to Scarlett's room, he made his entrance with a bouquet of wildflowers that made a riotous display of color ranging from the deep purple of irises and hot pinks of phlox to the yellow of black-eyed Susan's and the pure white of lilies.

"Oh, Rhett, how lovely! How did you know?" exclaimed Scarlett.

"Know what?" asked Rhett, feigning ignorance.

"That this room has become all too stuffy. It smelled so much like a hospital that I instructed Mammy to open wide all the windows—against her will, of course," she added sotto voce. "But now, these will freshen up the room wonderfully. Thank you so much!"

Rhett couldn't remember when Scarlett had ever been so thrilled with something so simple. "I'm glad you like them, my dear. Truly, I am. Where do you want them?"

"Oh, right next to me, so that I can smell them. They are so colorful and cheerful, and they are all my favorite colors, too," she said admiringly, smiling at Rhett as he set the vase down on her nightstand.

"I understand you had a good conversation with Mammy."

"What!" Scarlett was alert at his words. "Why? Did Mammy say something to you?"

"Well, she just said you had a nice talk and you seemed to be feeling a heap better today, an observation with I heartily agreed with. Hmmm, there's a nice breeze coming through the windows now. Is it too chilly for you?"

"No! There was no breeze earlier. I'm grateful that one finally kicked up, so don't you start in on me," responded Scarlett, at ease now that she knew her fear Mammy had told Rhett about the most intimate details of their conversation was unfounded. "Mammy didn't want the windows open for fear I'd catch my death, but I couldn't stand breathing in the stale air a minute longer. I needed some fresh air and this has done the trick." Scarlett was very satisfied with herself and neatly folded her hands in her lap as she looked up expectantly at Rhett, meeting his gaze for the first time. Suddenly she was struck with a bit of nerves. She wasn't quite sure how to approach the situation, but she remembered her resolve to meet him halfway. So far, he was being nothing but pleasant. She could do the same and smiled up at him beguilingly.

Rhett took a seat next to the bed and his eyes took in everything about her. "You're looking lovely, Scarlett. Why, is that the nightgown that we bought in New Orleans?" he asked somewhat taken aback.

"Yes, yes it is."

"I don't remember you ever wearing it before," he said, then without thinking added, "Not that I have been privy to seeing which nightgown you wear and when." Immediately, Scarlett's bright smile faded and she turned away from him. Just as quickly, Rhett recognized his error and sought to remedy it. "I'm sorry, Scarlett. That was thoughtless of me and cruel. But really, that nightgown looks better on you than I ever imagined it would.

"Scarlett?" he questioned while she kept her eyes fastened on the door. "Scarlett, it really is beautiful on you. No one seeing you now would even suspect that you've been ill."

Appealing to her vanity worked and she turned back to face him and small smile played upon her lips. "Really, Rhett? It does feel good to look a little better. Mammy was quite scandalized by this nightgown though."

"Really, how so?"

"She said something about Parisians women being loose, but I didn't pay much attention. It had gotten so hot in here that I didn't want to put on a heavy, old, long-sleeved nightgown and I figured since I'm not entertaining a lot of visitors, what's the harm if I do wear something that isn't so very modest, at least by Mammy's standards. Great balls of fire, some of my dresses show more than can be seen in this nightgown."

"So true, my dear, so true, but what Mammy is referring to is what the nightgown implies. Yes, technically, you're more covered up now than in some of your evening gowns, but then again, usually with those, well, er…you're fully clothed underneath, if you know what I mean…" Rhett's voice trailed off as he absentmindedly reached for a cigar and was about to strike a match on the bottom of his boot, when he stopped, looked up at Scarlett and put the cigar back in his shirt pocket.

"Oh, go ahead, Rhett. Don't mind me. You can smoke."

"No, my dear. That's fine. I don't want to put you at risk right now and be the cause of another breathing attack. You want fresh air and by God, you shall have it, it will be no hardship on me." He grinned widely at her. "So, Scarlett…" he leaned back in the chair, settled himself and re-crossed his legs, "have you thought of any questions you'd like to ask me."

This is the very moment Scarlett had been afraid of. She was dying to ask him questions, but equally fearful of getting his answers. What if Mammy was wrong and what she said was not true? She could certainly find out directly from Rhett, and know, once and for all one way or the other. Yet, an odd pang struck at her heart when she thought of asking him her big question: Did he love her? "What if his answer is no?" She felt her heart constrict at the thought. What would she do? For whatever reason, she didn't want to hear that answer. "Which is odd," Scarlett thought, "because I've asked that question before and he has denied it before, numerous times in fact. What would be different if the same thing occurred again?"

"Scarlett? Why the hesitation? I thought you'd be asking me questions as fast as the Yankees were firing their guns at Gettysburg." Rhett had his eyes riveted on her and if Scarlett had dared to look at him, she would have seen the anticipation clearly written on his face.

"Rhett…" Scarlett started slowly, pretending to choose her words carefully but in actuality, she was stalling. She couldn't seem to find the right words or the first place to start. "Rhett…I…"

"Yes," he prompted. "Really, Scarlett, I didn't think this would be so difficult for you."

"It is not that it is difficult, it is just that it is…I don't know. Ummm, I guess you could say that it is, a…a…bit…painful," her voiced dropped at this last and her gaze fell down into her lap.

"Painful? Painful for you or for me?" Rhett questioned in an attempt to lighten the mood."

"That remains to be seen."

"Well, out with it. I can take it. I'm ready."

"Rhett," Scarlett turned her face to look at him and she held his stare and locked onto his eyes with hers. "Rhett, why did you leave me the morning after Ashley's birthday party?"

Rhett was the one to break the stare. "She doesn't start off slow," he thought to himself. He had mentally prepared himself for her questions but he wasn't quite ready for a shotgun start. He stood and began pacing at the end of her bed, occasionally running his hand through his hair. Suddenly he stopped and turned to face her and decided to tell her a partial truth. "Scarlett, I was ashamed."

"Of what?"

"I had behaved badly. I was drunk and said—"

"No, Rhett," Scarlett countered, interrupting him, "You already told me all that. You were drunk and quite swept off your feet by my charms. That's not what I want to hear. I want the real reason, the truth this time."

"Scarlett, like I said, I was ashamed at my boorish behavior, ashamed and embarrassed. You're my wife and I, I shouldn't have said and acted the way I did."

Scarlett exhaled loudly, signaling her frustration. "I know you don't think me very bright, Rhett. You are forever bragging about how easily you can read me. Well, I know that I'm lacking in that area. I never know what you are thinking, but I do know this. You go through life as though it were a menu in a fancy restaurant, ordering what pleases you. If you find something distasteful on the menu, you simply overlook it or get up and leave."

"So what are you saying, Scarlett? That I run from problems? How dare you."

"How dare I? Shame on you, Rhett Butler. I don't think I've ever known a stronger man, but yes, you do run from conflicts and you can't deny it."

"What on earth do you mean? Look at the war, for God's sake! I didn't run from that responsibility. I showed up, a bit late, but I was there."

"Please, you miss my point. I'm talking about personal conflicts." She took a breath. She was fired up now but she hesitated just briefly, knowing she was now marching into enemy territory. "You never sorted out things with your father. You took off. Did you try to make any amends? Did you? Or did you just write him off because he was cold and cruel to you and your mother and therefore, in your eyes, undeserving of a second chance? Oh, I'm not saying that he did deserve a second chance, but did you ever consider giving him one—to be sure?"

"You're way out of line with that, Scarlett. This is between you and me. Leave my relationship with my father out of it!"

"All right, then. You've left numerous times when we've had an argument. When we argued—or should I say, I argued—about the whole Caveat Emptorium thing, you took off with Wade for New Orleans and you've done that more times than I can count. The most recent being after Ashley's party, when you took for three days before leaving again with Bonnie for three months! Why don't you ever stay—stay and fight?"

"Fight for what, Scarlett?"

"Fight for us!" She blurted out without thinking.

"Us! When has there ever been an _us_ in our marriage? If I remember correctly, either I'm the only one in the marriage or there are three of _us_."

Scarlett exhaled with exasperation. "Fine. Fine. There you go, always bringing Ashley back into it. If anyone puts three in our marriage, it is you." Her green eyes met his black ones straight on. Neither one of them blinked or looked away although both understood her reference to Rhett's drunken insult about there always being three in their bed when there ought to be just two. "But let me tell you this, Rhett Butler," Scarlett was too frustrated now to hold back and she barged ahead without reserve. "I was so disappointed when I woke to find you gone that morning. Everything seemed to have changed overnight and I thought—well—you said some things—"

"You said many things, too, my dear, if I recall," Rhett cut in.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Scarlett admitted primly, her lips in a tight line. They both sat a moment in silence, digesting their shared information.

"Did you know that I was worried to death when you didn't return home? I thought you were dead and I was frightened beyond words at the very thought. I was ready to call out the police. I didn't know where to turn. Then, you showed up and were so flippant and nasty, and treated the whole situation as though it was an everyday occurrence for you. Well, it wasn't for me!" she blurted, her eyes watering up until she blinked and tears started rolling down her cheeks. Reigning in her emotions, Scarlett quickly wiped away her tears and dragged her hand across her runny nose, failing to notice the flame flickering in Rhett's eyes. "…Anyway, I suppose it doesn't matter now," she said with resignation. "I'm only asking because you said I could ask anything of you, so I'll repeat my question," she said, raising her chin in defiance. "Just why did you leave that morning?"

"Like I said, I was ashamed…and I was afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what?"

"Scarlett, ah, where to begin? It is such a long story," he sat back down and held his head in his hands, trying to not just gather his thoughts, but to summon the courage to find the words he had kept hidden from her for so terribly long. His initial reaction was to give her another partial version of the truth, but then remembered his promise to himself of just a few days ago to put an end to the bluffing and playing his marriage like it was a high-stakes poker game. He paused a moment to weight Scarlett's admission. That night…that night, yes he remembered, all too well. Maybe he didn't read her wrong. Maybe, just maybe, she did love him. Maybe he hadn't dreamt it after all. Could it be? Could there be a benevolent God, after all, a God who was finally answering his prayers?

And, she was disappointed when he wasn't by her side when she woke up. God, how he longed to linger in bed with her, but fear and distrust had driven him out—out and into the street. His head was spinning. He knew he was on the precipice; his knees felt wobbly, his hands trembled and his heart pounded in his chest. Swallowing hard, he finally spoke. "Yes, I said some things that night. They were not said in a drunken stupor. They were said because they are true. It is how I feel. I said them because somewhere, somehow along the torturous path that is our relationship, despite my better judgment, against my will, I fell hopelessly in love with a green-eyed girl from Clayton County, Georgia. Perhaps you know her…" He quickly looked up at her. He didn't see the expected look of triumph in her eyes. Her face was blank, but he could tell she was hanging on his words.

"That night, like you said, everything changed because I thought—I hoped—I thought I saw a change in you and that perhaps, finally, after all these years, you had finally come to feel the same for me as I did for you. I hoped so much I was afraid to face you the next morning, for fear I'd been mistaken and you didn't love me. I was so afraid you'd laugh at me I went off and got drunk—nothing more," he said, raising an eyebrow and looking at her to emphasize his point. She was hanging on his words, so he continued, "And when I came back, I was shaking in my boots and if you had come even halfway to meet me, had given me some sign, I think I'd have kissed your feet. But you didn't. So, I took off with Bonnie to try and forget you, but I couldn't do that either."

"Oh, Rhett!" Scarlett cried, but a soft knocking on the door cut off her next words.

"Miss Scarlett," said Mammy, casting a quick glance between Scarlett and Rhett. "Sorry to in'trupt but Miss Melly is here to see you."

"Fine, Mammy. Show her in," Scarlett responded, her eyes never leaving Rhett's, regret filling the green depths at the ill timing of Melanie's visit. Rhett loved her! It was true! A warm rush of feeling washed over her, leaving her flushed with excitement and anticipation.

Mammy opened the door wide to allow Melanie to enter. "Oh, Scarlett, you're looking so well! Good afternoon, Captain Butler."

"Hello, Miss Melly. I'll let you visit now with Scarlett. Are the children downstairs?" Rhett was already moving toward the door, grateful for the respite that allowed him time to regroup and gather his bearings after baring his soul.

"Yes. They wanted to get some of their toys and of course, they've been begging to see you, Scarlett, but I wasn't sure you'd be up to that yet, so I didn't promise anything," Melanie told them both.

"I'll go see how they're doing—" Rhett interjected, moving to the door to make his exit.

"Will you be coming back—or do you have an unexpected trip planned?" Scarlett called to him as he exited the room.

Rhett turned around in the doorway to face Scarlett. "Yes, I'll be coming back, my dear. Don't you doubt it for a minute."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"What is it Scarlett?" asked Melanie as she took Rhett's seat in the chair next to Scarlett's bedside, clearly sensing her friend's distress.

"Oh, that man is so infuriating!"

"Men can be that way when you're in love with them," commented Melanie.

"In love?" Scarlett asked, bewildered because Melanie, and well, everyone seemed to be talking love and touting their perceptiveness in the face of Scarlett's ignorance.

"Why yes, of course. It is only when you love them so that they can drive you to distraction, you know that. It's funny, isn't it? When you don't care for a gentleman, they can do anything and you really couldn't care less. Ah, but when you care, everything they do impacts you and that is just the way it is," Melanie concluded with a gentle smile. "So how are you feeling, darling?"

"Oh, Melly, I feel so much better."

"I'm glad! And you seem to be well cared for."

"Oh, I am. It is the strangest thing. Rhett has been so attentive and well, he's been here night and day from what he tells me. I know I've slept most of the time, but when I've been awake, he's been here."

"That doesn't surprise me, Scarlett. Captain Butler was so worried about you and he was so relieved when you called for him. You are so lucky. He loves you so."

"Do you really think so, Melly?" asked Scarlett, settling into this conversation as easily as she would settle into a feather bed tossed with dozens of fluffy down pillows.

"Oh, Scarlett, of course I do. I've never been so sure of anything in my life. But, then again, this isn't news to you, is it?"

"Well—" Scarlett cast around in her mind for the right words. "Yes, I mean, no. I mean—oh, I don't know what I mean."

"Oh, Scarlett, you're just feeling very emotional. It's only natural after an accident like yours. I know that sometimes you've probably doubted your husband's love, and maybe even at times, doubted yours for him. But Scarlett, in the end, you two are made for each other," said Melanie as a blush rose in her cheeks. She lowered her voice to a whisper and continued. "I know this is probably inappropriate and maybe it is not my place to say this, but Scarlett, I don't know of two people more in love than you and Captain Butler."

"Really, Melly," said Scarlett eagerly. "Why?" She needed to know what everyone else seemed to know that she didn't.

"Oh, Scarlett, it's so obvious. I mean, well, I could tell that Captain Butler loved you throughout the war. I know that you didn't feel the same way then. Either you didn't see it or, well, maybe you were still mourning my poor Charlie. But well, I've known that he loved you for years. And, well, I see how you light up light a firefly when he's around you. He challenges you. He makes you think, just as my Ashley challenges me.

"You know," Melanie continued, sitting straighter and more alert as an idea suddenly dawned on her, "I remember the exact moment when I knew you were in love with him!"

"You do? Tell me, Melly," pleaded Scarlett, most interested in everything Melanie was saying as part of this conversation. "Tell me and I'll let you know if you're right."

"I remember questioning your decision to marry Captain Butler so hastily when you announced your engagement," Melanie said. "I admired you so for all the conviction you had in your decision, but as much as I liked and respected Captain Butler for everything he had done to help me and you, I still thought you were moving rather fast. Then, I heard you tell off Mrs. Merriwether. She told you that he was 'simply not the kind of man that decent people receive,'" said Melanie, recreating Mrs. Merriwether's haughty voice and intonation in an imitation that made Scarlett burst out laughing, not so much at Melanie's dead-on impersonation, but that Melanie was mimicking Mrs. Merriwether at all.

"You stood up for Captain Butler at Mrs. Merriwether's every attack. Why you pointed how many times he was in her parlor during the war and how he gave Maybelle the white satin for her wedding dress. But that still didn't stop her. When she attacked him again, you reminded her that Captain Butler saved Grandpa Merriwether's neck and her nephew's, too. Still she didn't stop. Then, she mentioned that he wasn't in the army and you said, 'He was, too, in the army. He was in the army eight months. He was in the last campaign and fought at Franklin and was with General Johnston when he surrendered.'" Now Melanie was imitating Scarlett, and showing quite a flair for acting.

Both Scarlett and Melanie were giggling at the absurdity of the whole situation. "I had forgotten you were there!" Scarlett said, wiping the tears that were running down her cheeks.

"Oh, but…but that wasn't the best of it, Scarlett!" said Melanie, reaching out her hand to place it on Scarlett's arm, ensuring she had her attention. "Then, then, Mrs. Merriwether said, 'I hadn't heard that.'" Once more, Melanie fell into her role of Mrs. Merriwether with total abandon and accuracy like an oft-rehearsed theatrical role. "'But he wasn't wounded,'" Melanie finished triumphantly.

"Then, you said something to the effect, 'Then I guess all the men you knew were such fools they didn't know when to come in out of a shower of rain—or of minie balls. Now,

let me tell you this, Mrs. Merriwether,'" said Melanie, wagging her finger at Scarlett just as Scarlett did at Mrs. Merriwether those many years ago, "'and you can take it back to your busybody friends. I'm going to marry Captain Butler and I wouldn't care if he'd fought on the Yankee side!'

"When I heard you say that, I knew that you were in love with him and from that point on, I knew you two were meant to be together and that the two of you would allow nothing, absolutely nothing to come between you," Melanie finished, a little tear in her eye and a self-satisfied smile on her face.

Suddenly, Scarlett was not laughing any longer. "Hmmm," was Scarlett's only reply. Melanie could see that Scarlett had become distant. She hoped she hadn't offended her with her impersonation, but thought not. Instead she attributed Scarlett's change in mood to fatigue after their long conversation. Scarlett was tired, but at that moment, she was really lost in thought, thumbing through memories of Rhett dating back to the Twelve Oaks barbeque like pages in a scrapbook.

"Well, am I right?"

"Melly, its so strange." Scarlett spoke slowly, walking back in time to try and put it all together not just to answer Melly's question, but to satisfy herself as well. "I can't begin to tell you how many times I wondered if I was in love with him during the war, especially when I found myself looking forward to his visits so much and never knowing when or if he would return to Atlanta again. But then, I'd tell myself that I was being foolish. I couldn't possibly be in love with Rhett Butler. Yet, he was always so exciting and we had so much to always talk about, but then he would do something that would just make me so mad…"

"Yes," returned Melly, snuggling into the overstuffed chair with a grin and pulling her leg up under her skirts. "I enjoy a good love story, please continue."

"Continue? That's been the pattern for—for years. I don't know if I can pinpoint when I started loving him," said Scarlett with wonder, accepting the newfound knowledge that she loved Rhett as easily as a child accepts a toy. Yet, that's not to say that she wasn't curious how and when it all came about. On her face was a look of concentration. She puzzled over this strange new development just as she would a bank statement that didn't jive with her calculations. If Melanie was expecting a romantic tale of how love conquers all, she was in for disappointment because Scarlett revealed nothing further. In fact, Scarlett seemed suddenly even further away, lost in her own thoughts.

"My dear, I can see that you're tired," said Melanie, as she slowly stood to leave. "I probably should have left sooner. Oh, dear! I can't believe how late it is. I totally lost track of the time!" she exclaimed with a quick glance at the clock. She and Scarlett were so engrossed in their conversation that she neglected to watch the time. They had chatted away even while Scarlett ate her dinner from the tray that Mammy brought to her room. "Mammy said the children were having dinner with Captain Butler, so I can take them home now. I know you're disappointed at not seeing them yet, Scarlett, but I agree with Mammy. Just give it another couple of days and you'll be that much stronger. You're more likely to be able to take their jostling if they jump on the bed."

"Thanks, Melly, for—for everything. I really enjoyed our visit today." Scarlett held her hands out to her friend, who clasped them in hers.

"Oh, I did, too, Scarlett. Talking with you is like talking with the sister I always wished I had."

"We had some good laughs, too, didn't we?"

"I haven't laughed so hard in ages. Now, promise me, you'll get your sleep and get well again. I miss you, my dear."

"Me, too, you. And yes, I promise."

"Goodnight then. Oh, do you want me to send anything up for you?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm just going to close my eyes for a bit."

* * * *

After Melanie left, Scarlett spent the next hour or so pondering all the information she had gleaned throughout the day—first from Mammy, then Rhett, and finally Melanie. Rhett's admittance that he loved her and the gradual realization that she possibly loved him as well turned her world upside down. "How could everything change overnight? Her feelings for Ashley, Melanie and above all, Rhett?" she asked herself. She dozed off into blissful sleep thinking about the uncertain future that lay ahead of her, when suddenly she was jarred from sleep by a loud bang in the hallway.

"Nevermind, Pork, I'll take it from here," she heard Rhett say from the hall before a soft knock sounded on her door. It opened slightly and Rhett stuck his head in. "Are you awake? Can I come in?"

"I'm awake now. What was the bang in the hall?" Scarlett nodded and waved him in, trying to sit up while craning her neck to see what all the commotion was about. She didn't have to wait for long. Rhett returned to the hall and came back in carrying, in multiple pieces, an army cot that Wade and Beau regularly used when they played war in the back yard.

"I don't think I could take another night in that chair," Rhett said as he set about unfolding the cot, which was really no more than a piece of canvas stretched over two long poles, which rested at either end on a couple of cement blocks.

"I agree. If you sleep in that chair again you'll end up looking like old man Ferguson."

"Ferguson? Oh, you mean that man who wanders through the park everyday."

"Yes, the poor man is so bent over that he can't even take in the sights," said Scarlett as she peered over her side of her bed at Rhett, busy at work assembling the cot. He stood then, and admiring his handiwork, tossed a blanket and a pillow upon his newly made bed.

"Well, my dear, thank you for being so concerned over my wellbeing," he replied, still studying his nightly accommodations.

"Are you joking?" Scarlett sniffed at the cot below her.

"What do you mean? My dear, I demonstrate my craftsman-like abilities and you think I'm joking. I'm wounded. And as for the cot itself, I look upon that cot as quite the luxury. I only enjoyed one night upon one when I joined the army. I had grown quite accustomed to the hard ground, so believe me, the cot was very comfortable by comparison. I did it then, I can do it again."

"Rhett, you can't possibly sleep on that cot. Heaven's sake! It is only about five feet long, if that. Are you planning on letting your legs dangle off the end?"

"No, my dear. As a matter of fact, my experience at cot sleeping has taught me that one must lay on their side and pull their knees up to get adequate sleep. I don't recommend stretching out at full length and sleeping on one's back when the mattress in question is nothing more than a piece of canvas strung between two poles. I'm afraid if I were to sleep on my back that way, I'd wake up hunched over, which is the very plight that I am determined to avoid after sleeping in that beastly chair for the last several nights."

"Rhett, you're being stubborn." Scarlett knew he wouldn't be comfortable on the cot, but she didn't know what else to suggest, unless—

"Stubborn! There's the pot calling the kettle black. I'll be just fine. Now, it is late. It's been a long day. I don't know about you, but I'm bushed. Do you need anything before I turn out the lights."

"No, no, I'm all set."

Rhett crossed the hall to his room and returned in his nightclothes.

"Did you and Melanie have a nice conversation?" He turned out all the lights and the room fell into semi-darkness.

"Yes, it was very nice."

"The children and I heard a lot of laughing. They wanted desperately to see you to find out what was so funny."

"Oh, it was nothing really. Just a little of this and a little of that," Scarlett said evasively.

"I gather you're not going to tell me what you talked about."

"No."

"Fine." His voice was sharper than he intended. Rhett was actually glad that she seemed to enjoy her visit with Melanie. But truth be told, he was wildly curious about what they had discussed. He had never, never in his life heard Scarlett laugh like she did tonight. Well, laughter might just spur on her healing and if that was the case, he was grateful for it. If only he could make her laugh like that.

"Would you like me to close the windows? Is it too cool" he asked, his face lit on one side by the moonlight streaming into the room.

"No, please don't. The breeze feels so nice." Rhett looked at Scarlett and her eyes danced with light. Her hair was tousled, having fallen loose of her hair ribbon. Her skin, though paler than usual, was luminous and one strap of her nightgown had slid off her arm as the drawstring loosened in her sleep, making her look every bit the woman he had carried up the stairs, lusty, passionate and oh, so sensual. "God, why am I torturing myself like this," he sighed inwardly, running his hand through his hair to contain his tightly bottled emotions.

Ever since Melanie's inopportune knock came on Scarlett's door, Rhett was in emotional turmoil. He left Scarlett's room when Melanie arrived, crossed the hall and fell into an exhausted emotional heap on his bed once he closed the door to his room. He was like a soldier, who after having walked barefoot across three states following Appomattox only to find his home burned to the ground and his family missing. Frankly, Rhett didn't know where he stood or where to go from here. He had laid all his cards on the table. He had made a gift of the secret that he had so carefully hidden away from sight, denied on more than one occasion and nurtured in his heart for years to the very person who could take his gift and throw it in the gutter or…or…"No, it couldn't be possible!"

"Goodnight, Scarlett," Rhett said quietly as he settled onto the cot and drew the thin, cotton blanket over him.

"You're being difficult. I just wish you'd listen to me. That cot is not going to work," Scarlett continued to urge, peering over at him below her.

"Scarlett, I'm fine!" His exasperation with the uncertainty of their situation, not the cot, finally caused a crack in his usual calm demeanor and his temper started to flare.

"Fine! You're fine! Then, fine! I'm fine, too! Fine! We're all fine!" Scarlett snapped, turning as much as her ribs would allow her onto her side and punching the pillow for added emphasis.

They both lay quietly for some time. The breeze outside had picked up and the trees outside the window made a rustling noise as the leaves waved back and forth. From somewhere, the soft whooo, whooo of an owl could be heard. Crickets asked questions of their mates and followed their responses home. It was the quintessential Southern night, sweetly scented, serenely quiet and bathed in moonlight.

Then, without warning, there was a thunderous crack of what, thunder? "Oh, my God, what was that?" Scarlett cried.

"Owww."

Scarlett looked over the side of the bed and there was Rhett, rolling around on his back, entrapped in the cot, which had given away amid splintering poles and torn canvas.

"God damn, it!" He muttered, trying desperately to disentangle his legs from the blanket, which only made matters worse. "Ouch!" he yelled as he rolled again only to land on one of the broken poles as it stuck him in the back. Scarlett looked at him with a straight face for but a moment. When she couldn't contain herself for a second longer, she exploded with laugher at the sight of the always debonair Rhett Butler rolling back and forth on the floor like a turtle on its back with its arms and legs flailing in the air. She laughed so hard that tears starting rolling down her face, which was turning a bright red. Rhett, who had finally managed to get back on his feet, looked at her with a stern face, "What the hell?" But watching her laughing uncontrollably was a first and then he, too, joined in, laughing at the pile of debris lying at his feet that had once been his bed.

"Oh, it hurts to laugh this hard!" she managed to sputter out.

"Then, stop it, for God's sake!"

"I can't!" She squeaked out, and then in a Herculean effort to regain control, she forced herself into a solemn pose and took a deep breath. "I'd don't want to say, 'I told you so,' but I told you so!" Her control broke like a damn holding back a raging river and once again, she fell into a bout of laugher that Rhett thought sounded like bells. He laughed, too, and sat down on the edge of the bed as Scarlett collapsed on her pillows in giggles.

"Are you quite finished now?" asked Rhett, trying to look serious.

"No!" Her laughing jag showed no sign of abatement.

"My dear, I had no idea that you were an aficionado of physical comedy."

"I didn't either," she gasped. Then, taking in big gulps of air in an effort to calm herself once again, Scarlett finally regained a modicum of control, at least enough to tell him, "Oh! Oh! I think I'm better now…Are you hurt?"

"My dear, to see you laugh like that is worth all the aches and pains I'm sure to feel in the morning. Now, let's see, I need to devise something else. I suppose the chair is starting to look pretty good again," he glanced at the chair with a smirk. Then, turning sullen, he spoke softly without meeting Scarlett's face. "But then, I also imagine that you're feeling well enough that you really don't need my round-the-clock care any more, do you? I should really just move back into my room. If you need anything, you can just—"

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Scarlett told Rhett, who had slid to his knees on the floor to clean up the mess. "Please sleep here," she suggested with a wave of her hand, trying to sound nonchalant, "just in case."

"Here? By here, do you mean the chair? I said that I don't know how my back would fare—"

"No," Scarlett interjected. "By here, I mean, here," she said, indicating the bed with her eyes, "with me."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I said you could sleep—here—next to me."

"Scarlett, I can't believe that I would ever turn down such an enticing proposal, but I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why? Oh, Rhett, I never took you for a prude. We're married, for heaven's sakes!" Noting his hesitation, she added, "Well, you do what you want." She settled herself back into her sleeping position. "If you really prefer the chair—"

"No, but I don't want to jostle you or hurt you in any way."

"We're just going to be sleeping, right, Rhett, or did you have other plans?"

"Scarlett—"

"What I mean is…Everything will be fine. I'll be fine. Remember we had this bed custom made to a larger size."

"I remember every time I see the bill for custom fitted sheets."

"Well, then, you'll see. I'll be fine."

Rhett pulled back the covers and slid into the bed, taking special care not to bounce or upset the bed enough to cause Scarlett any pain. "See? What did I tell you? You haven't jostled me at all. I didn't feel a thing," Scarlett told him as he gingerly laid his head on the pillow.

"Well, that's good, but I'm afraid to move. Once I fall asleep, I don't know if I can promise such control."

"Please, Rhett. Stop treating me like I'm made of porcelain."

"All right, I'll try." He rolled carefully onto his side so that he could look at her. "I promise. Now you promise me that you'll wake me if you need anything."

"You have my word."

"Alright, then. Goodnight, Scarlett."

"Goodnight, Rhett."

Rhett rolled onto his back and lay staring up at the ceiling, pondering the events that marked this long day. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this morning that he'd end up back in his wife's bed later that night.

"What do you think Doctor Meade would say if he saw us now?" Rhett asked.

"He'd be scandalized. He's gotten so crotchety lately. I know he is only concerned about me, but he doesn't act like a happy man."

"He definitely treats me as if I'm up to no good."

"I thought you had made headway with him during all your Democratic meetings."

"I thought I had, but give me Grandpa Merriwether over Doctor Meade any day. I think I'd fare much better with Merriwether. I'm sure Doctor Meade's dislike for me dates back to the ill-fated raid on Shantytown."

"Why?"

"Grandpa Merriwether always looks like he has a bit of mischief in his eyes. He has a spark about him. He enjoys life and lives it to his fullest. I applaud him."

"And Doctor Meade?"

"Doctor Meade is a good man. He's honorable and a gentleman. He's a good doctor. He loves his wife. But I have to tell you, between you and me, the Doctor Meade we see today is a shell of a man he once was, don't you think?"

"Yes, I know. He's been marked by so much grief and sadness. He was never the same after losing his sons, Darcy and Phil. It is really so sad. Thank goodness, he has Mrs. Meade. They must be married some forty years by now. When you lose a child—well, I mean—," Scarlett's voice dropped off and she stumbled around to find words once she realized that she had spoken the unthinkable aloud.

Rhett turned to look at her from his pillow. "Go on, Scarlett. What were you going to say?" he urged quietly.

She turned her head to face him. Her eyes glittered brightly in the dark room. "I—I was just thinking that when both Darcy and Phil died, Doctor and Mrs. Meade could have turned away from each other in their grief. They are fortunate. They turned to each other and I suppose their marriage is the stronger for it." Scarlett's eyes shone like liquid and Rhett was reassured by her words.

"We could learn from them, you know," he offered.

Scarlett nodded, turned her head toward the ceiling to study the play of light and shadows on its surface and pulled the blanket up under her chin where her hands held it in place. Rhett felt her suddenly withdraw from him, but then, she took her arm out from under the covers and reached across the distance that separated them until she found his hand and laced her fingers with his.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Rhett awoke early the next morning. It was room was still dark, but you could see hints of the coming dawn from the streaks of pink and red light that played about the open windows. Scarlett was sleeping soundly at his side and he marveled for the umpteenth time at the events that has transpired yesterday. He also silently cursed Melanie's untimely interruption.

He had revealed so much, almost everything in fact and he didn't regret it one bit. He, Rhett Butler, had turned a new page and so far, so good. The new day was dawning and for the first time in about two years, he was sharing a bed with his wife and at her invitation, no less. Yes, this new approach had its risks, but it also had its share of rewards and lying next to Scarlett this morning was a reward greater than any he had ever known. They seemed to have come so far yesterday. For the last few weeks, when he thought about the night following Ashley's birthday party, he chided himself for being a fool. Told himself repeatedly that he read too much into Scarlett's actions and words, muttered in the throes of passion. Told himself that she had physical desires like anyone else and for the first time, he apparently tapped into that well of desire that he had thought gone dry years ago. But he was wrong. Scarlett had said that she was disappointed when he wasn't there in the morning; she missed him and feared him hurt or worse.

When Rhett returned to her room after Melanie left last night, he hadn't known what to expect. He didn't detect the look of triumph in her eyes that he expected to see, but maybe, now that his revelation had time to sink in, she might be more inclined to wield her power over him. But no, that didn't happen either. Of course, they had avoided any serious talk and she didn't ask him any further questions. But, she had seemed more open to their relationship, more receptive to him. She had admitted that she, too, had said some things in their passionate night together after Ashley's party. And, she had admitted that everything was different from that point on. These were all good omens. True, she hadn't said the words he longed to hear, but then again, he hadn't either; that was one last part of his heart that he held back—retained as his final gift to her.

Last evening had been wonderful, lying next to his beloved after so long apart, but then again, it had been all about the sleeping arrangements, punctuated by his weight smashing the cot to bits. He hoped Wade wouldn't be too disappointed. No, she hadn't said that she loved him, nor did she claim that her love for Ashley Wilkes was no more, but in the warm light of the coming dawn, he felt a surge of hope. For the first time since just after Bonnie was born when Scarlett banished him from her room, like the conquering hero, he had returned and now he was returning brandishing a sword of hope.

After a long while of laying in bed, memorizing every aspect of Scarlett's face from the thickness of her eyelashes to marveling at the curls in her hair, her eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," she said as she stretched her arms above her head with a little yawn.

"Good morning, my dear." It was an awkward silence, neither wanting to expose too much. It was a new day, a new dawn and each remembered it held the potential for a new start, but fear and distrust were emotions that still coexisted in each of their hearts.

"Thank you."

"For what," asked Rhett, raising an eyebrow.

"For resisting the urge to leave and getting dressed before I woke up."

"I had no idea that was something you gave a second thought to."

"This is nice. I like it." Scarlett's smile was like a child's, well rested and totally content.

"I'll make a note of that—for future reference," returned Rhett, with a wink.

"You know what?" whispered Scarlett as if she was telling him a secret, her voice so low that Rhett had to lean in to hear her.

"What?"

"We kind of went behind doctor's orders last night, didn't we?" Scarlett asked, her eyes indicating the shared bed.

"I suppose."

"Are you game to do it again?"

"Do what again?" asked Rhett, wondering if Scarlett was making an audacious proposal or if she was referring to something else entirely—something of which he hadn't a single clue.

"Go against doctor's orders."

"By doing what, my pet?"

"Help me out of bed."

"What? No, Scarlett. Doctor Meade hasn't said you can get up yet."

"Rhett, either you help me or…or…"

"Scarlett, this doesn't make sense. Let's wait for Doctor Meade to stop by and let him put in his two cents. He might tell you that it is just fine to get up."

"No, I don't want to wait for him. Please, let's just do this. Doctor Meade never has to know."

"And what if something happens to you? Then what?"

"What could happen to me?"

"Scarlett, you're sounding pretty indomitable now, but just a few days ago, you had a miscarriage, were running an astronomically high fever and were delirious. You had a concussion, still have broken ribs and who knows what else. Let's see, did I fail to mention something?"

"Forget it! I'll do it myself," she shot at him before adding in a voice filled with anguish, "You just don't understand."

"Damn it, Scarlett! You have children waiting to see you—"

"Great balls of fire! I know that! That's one reason that I want to get out of this bed, for heaven's sake! I miss them and I don't want them to see me like this."

"You will see them in or out of bed. Just wait for Doctor Meade to give you his blessing before you get out of bed. The children don't need to see you having a relapse. It is too risky. Life is one big risk, Scarlett, as we've found out, but there is no need to take senseless risks. I don't want you to start hemorrhaging or God's know what."

"I…I…feel so frustrated and helpless!"

"I do understand," he said tenderly, taking her hand in his and looking deep into her eyes. "I know you don't like forced confinement, but it will all pay off in the long run. You'll be strong and healthy and I hope, happy, too."

"But, Rhett…please. I feel like I'm on the brink of something and…and…I want to be able to deal with it. I feel like half a person stuck in this bed like an invalid."

The desperation in her eyes was evident and Rhett felt for her. "Let me make you a deal. We'll get Doctor Meade over here today and see what he has to say. In the meantime, I'll do whatever I can to ensure that you feel like the furthest thing from an invalid."

Her lower lip turned out in a pout, but it was more than that. Rhett knew how caged she must feel and knew if he were in her place, he'd go stark raving mad. But he couldn't give into her wishes, no matter how tempted he was. He couldn't risk losing her when he was coming so close to winning her.

"Please go along on this with me. Give me a shot at this, Scarlett, please, trust me. Besides, we have a lot more to discuss and I know you have a lot more questions to ask me. I can see them floating around behind your eyes. Right, am I right?" he asked with a teasing laugh, trying to elicit a smile from her.

"All right. I'll do what you say, but that being the case, I suggest you send Mammy in here, since I can't do for myself any more."

* * * *

Rhett had retrieved Mammy as Scarlett requested and she helped Scarlett with her toilette. Mammy chatted happily and inquired of her visit with Melanie. When she saw the heap of rubble on the bedroom floor by the door that had been the army cot, she just grinned, a wide, knowing smile and sauntered off with the laundry. Doctor Meade showed up shortly thereafter and said Scarlett was progressing splendidly, but stopped just short of allowing her to get up on her feet. Tomorrow, he promised. She could give it a try tomorrow. One more day of bed rest would give her just that much more time to heal. However, he cautioned, if she were to experience any pain in her side, she must return to bed immediately. Rhett took in Doctor Meade's advice and with his eyes, he gave her a reassuring look that promised her that they'd give it a go the next day, but not before.

After Doctor Meade left, Scarlett spent the balance of the morning and early afternoon alone. Rhett said he needed some time to run errands but promised to return by late afternoon; Mammy was otherwise occupied; Melanie was with the children, so Scarlett was left alone with her thoughts. She was slightly perturbed that Rhett took off the way he did knowing that she was blue. He said he would make her feel less like an invalid and as it was turning out, she was alone, feeling more bedridden than ever. On the other hand, she did like the idea of having some time to sort out all her jumbled thoughts from the last few days.

It had been wonderful sleeping with Rhett by her side. He always made her feel so safe, so secure. The night was filled with a friendly warmth that had long been absent from their lives. She had missed it. She had missed the conversations in bed with Rhett from the minute that she had locked him out of her room. She didn't want to lose them again. She hoped she could find a way to make him return to her bed permanently. He nearly left last night because she was recovering quite well and really didn't need help any longer during the overnight hours. She knew she couldn't delay the inevitable much longer. He'd feel it was necessary to return to his room unless she spoke up and explained why she wanted him there and that she didn't want him with her as a nursemaid either.

She still couldn't quite verbalize her feelings for Rhett, not to herself, let alone to him. Still, like she had told him earlier, Scarlett felt like she was on the brink of something, something big. She didn't want to give voice to her feelings while she lay helpless in bed. Rhett had the courage to finally speak of his true feelings and she wanted to do the same, but not this way. Yes, she had to admit, some of what she felt was still a bit blurry to be absolutely certain about, but she knew one thing—Rhett loved her and she was absolutely thrilled about it. She wasn't happy like she thought she'd be during the war, when she wanted to lord it over him and whip his black head into submission. Those thoughts didn't even occur to her. This time, she felt like all the hopes she had nursed during his absence with Bonnie might finally come to bear. She wanted a replay of that night after Ashley's party. She wanted another chance to feel the rapture that she felt that night and know for absolute certain that it was real and not a dream. She wanted more time to be a better mother to her children. She wanted to share Bonnie's love with Rhett. She still wanted another child, a boy, with Rhett's dark handsomeness; and at that thought, her eyes misted over. She lost this child, she thought, her hand going to her stomach, but if God gave her another chance, she'd see to it that nothing would harm a new baby and she'd care for it and love it, like she should have loved the others. No, like she will love the others, she corrected herself.

"Where was Rhett?" she wondered. She tried to fix her hair in a becoming arrangement, to while away some time. She pulled up both sides of her long hair to the top of her head, twisted it a couple of times and then secured it with a comb. She looked at herself in a hand mirror and noticed that some color had come back into her face, but she was still noticeably pale. She didn't want to add any rouge, but simply smiled and with that, her eyes lit up and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. She hoped that Rhett still thought her attractive. She replayed his words again her in head… _"I fell in love with a green eyed girl from Clayton County, Georgia."_ His voice had been full of passion and nostalgia when he talked and she hoped he still felt that way for her. He didn't actually say the words, "I love you." What if he meant he loved her in the past tense? She hoped she wasn't too late. Lost in her thoughts, she dozed off with a slight smile on her lips.

She woke up with a soft knock on the door. She glanced at the clock and it was not quite five o'clock. She had been sleeping for two hours. Rhett poked his head in and looked around, "Are you decent?"

"What? Of course!" She sat up and tried to arrange her hair, which had gotten slightly mussed during her nap.

"I have a surprise for you." Rhett was dressed to the nines in one of his nicest waistcoats with a starched white shirt and gray trousers. He looked dashing as usual and Scarlett was slightly dismayed at the thought that he was out and about looking so good while she was locked in her room like a naughty child. But even that thought quickly escaped her head at the mention of a surprise.

"Oh, Rhett, what is it?"

"A surprise. Are you ready?" She sat up straighter, like an obedient child and folded her hands in her lap. Rhett went to her door, opened it wide and in came Mammy, wheeling a silver service cart, followed by Pork, wheeling a matching cart. Lou came next with a heavy basket hanging on one arm while a white linen table cloth hung over the other. The trio, with Rhett's help, quickly moved about the room. First, Rhett removed an oil lamp from the round table in front of the doors to the veranda. He and Pork dragged the table closer to the bed and then took the linen tablecloth from Lou and tossed it on top. Mammy and Lou immediately added candles to the tabletop, fine china and sparkling glassware.

"Madame, you cannot go to New Orleans, so I have brought New Orleans to you," announced Rhett.

"What are you saying?" asked Scarlett, still trying to grasp what was going on.

"You said you wanted to get out. Well, Doctor Meade said you can try standing up tomorrow. This evening, however, we're transforming your bedroom into one of the finest restaurants in all of New Orleans. To start, we have shrimp in a remoulade sauce."

"Rhett? Rhett, is this what you've been doing all day?"

"My dear, you have me all figured out."

"Not exactly, but…but how did you do this?"

"Well, I cheated a little. I would have loved to bring you an authentic meal from the Vieux Carré, but that would have been impossible on such short notice. However, I know the chef at the National Hotel and he graciously agreed to provide me a four-course meal to my specifications. Gustave is Creole and arrived here just after the war, so I daresay, it will be as authentic a Creole meal as we can get here in Atlanta."

"Oh, Rhett! It is wonderful!" Scarlett exclaimed as Pork, Lou and Mammy, who was beaming from ear to ear, took their leave.

"Madame, may I?" He pulled a chair out and indicated Scarlett's place at the table. She looked up at him helplessly. "No, Madame, I meant, may I help you to your seat?" He came to her and bending, indicated that he intended to pick her up. She nodded and he very gently gathered her in his arms, one hand snaking under her knees as he lifted her from the bed with ease. Her arms around his neck, her bare feet dangling below the hem of her nightgown, he set her down in the chair and she squared herself to the table.

Rhett unveiled a tureen of chicken and andouille gumbo and filled a bowl for each of them. Then, he sat down next to Scarlett at the table.

"This is so unbelievable, Rhett. Thank you. You made good on your promise of this morning."

"Well, thank you. I'm glad I could turn around your day, at least I hope I have."

"Oh, yes. Yes! I…I…don't know what to say. You keep treating me like this and I'll—well I'll—"

"What, Scarlett?" Rhett asked, hanging on her words.

"Let me ask you this? Are you courting me, Captain Butler?" Scarlett said, batting her lashes at him and smiling shyly his way from under her thick lashes.

"What would you say if I said, yes?"

"I'd say that I'm a little nervous because I don't think I've ever been courted," she replied, plopping a shrimp smothered in remoulade sauce into her mouth.

"You! No, that can't be!"

"It's true!"

"What do you call what we did during the War?"

"Were you courting me? Yes, I do remember you saying that you were the only man over sixteen and under sixty who was around to show me a good time, and yes, you did bring me candy and flowers, but I don't think you could say that you were courting me."

"It felt like courting from my end."

"But you always denied having any feelings for me. And, you let plenty of other men buzz around me, so no, that was not courting. This, however, definitely feels like courting. And, do you know what, Captain Butler?"

"What?"

"I am enjoying it. You keep this up and well…well"

"Well…?"

"Well, a proper lady should not say, but since I'm not exactly a proper lady, I'll tell you." She leaned over to him to whisper conspiratorially to him, "You could really turn my head."

Sighing with mock disappointment, he replied, "Only turn your head, hmmm? I hoped to do a little better than that."

"Oh, I don't doubt that you will. You're quite accomplished at wooing the ladies from what I have heard."

"Really? And, what have you heard?"

"Oh, I've heard that you have a girl in every port and are not the type to be faithful to just one."

"Ah, those are just rumors. The truth is I long to be faithful to just one woman, provided she loves me as I love her."

"Oh," Scarlett replied softly, her chin was cupped in her hand, propped up by her elbow, which now slid off the table, throwing her off balance and nearly to the floor. He was so damned handsome and when he was like this, he made her feel hot and cold and shaky, all at the same time.

"Are you all right, my dear? Did I say something to upset you?"

"No…No," Scarlett stammered as she collected herself. Why did he make her so nervous? Why did she feel like a schoolgirl alone with her first beau? He was Rhett, her husband. "Oh, Rhett this food is just wonderful. And, well, everything is so romantic," she said, looking about the room at the vases of fresh cut flowers that he had brought in to the candles that flickered brightly on the tabletop now that it was getting darker. "Do you remember when we had dinner at Antoine's?"

"How could I forget? You finished your crawfish etouffé and then started on my oysters. At dessert, I never saw anyone with more of a sweet tooth for pastries. Then, after consuming an abundance of champagne, we drove back to the hotel while you were singing Bonnie Blue Flag in the open carriage."

"My, my, my…you do have a good memory."

"I remember everything about New Orleans quite well. Tell me, Scarlett, did you enjoy our honeymoon?"

"I did, indeed. I loved everything about it. I loved the shops of New Orleans, its restaurants, its food, its music and well, everything."

They were now eating their main course, which consisted of grillades of veal, a delectable side dish the chef proudly dubbed, Oysters Bienville, and sweet potato pancakes.

"Everything?" Rhett asked, once again trying to draw more details from Scarlett. This evening was going even better than he had planned. She seemed happy, utterly happy and he was glad to have had something to do with that. She was flirting with him and while he detested when she had done that during the War, now he was heartened by it. After so many months and months of arguments and silent wars where Scarlett sulked until she got an apology, which he refused to tender, she was now livening up the evening with lighthearted flirting. She was coy and seductive at the same time. He marveled that she hadn't lost her touch. His pulse raced when she gave him a sly look, a demure smile or a flirtatious laugh because this time, he sensed something was different. He was hard put to place his finger on what that difference as, but one thing he did know. In the past, she flirted with everyone and anyone. He hadn't seen her flirt since the War and that was ten years ago. Now she was flirting and there was no one she wanted to impress, no one she wanted to make jealous, no one she wanted to lasso. They were already married and they were alone. Tonight, her flirting was for him alone.

"Ah, Captain Butler, I thought I was the one to be asking the questions," she replied, taking a big mouthful of her sweet potato pancakes. "But, to ease your curiosity, I'll tell you this." Scarlett straightened her back and launched head on, her courage bolstered by the small sip of scuppernong wine that he allowed her. "What I liked most about New Orleans was our, umm, our nightly conversations."

"Our nightly conversations?" Rhett's eyes were wide and he was searching his memory for what she could be referring to.

"Yes. Every night, we'd lay in bed and you'd tell me stories about your past, whether they be funny or slightly, well…risqué…and well, you should know how much I enjoyed that time together. You had an endless supply of entertaining stories, and well…" her mind wandered backwards and a sudden shadow darkened her eyes and the smile faded from her face. "We talked a lot then, like we're doing now. All that seemed to end when we moved into this house. What happened, Rhett?"

"Well, as I recall, it is rather difficult to have a bedtime conversation when we're sleeping more than two hundred feet apart and we're separated by two heavy mahogany doors." His face was bland, but his voice held a note of bitterness.

"Rhett, I'm sorry. I regretted it the minute that it happened. If there is one regret that I have, that's it. I never meant to hurt you like that. I…I…"

"So what made you make the request for separate bedrooms?"

"Are you asking the questions now?"

"I see that you're taking that offer of mine to heart. Well, Scarlett, when you shut me out of your room, you can't begin to imagine how that cut me. I knew it wasn't entirely because you didn't want any more children. I told you the night of Ashley's party how bad that made me feel. You hurt me, so I in turn, felt I had to hurt you. I did repeatedly; I admit it. I wanted to hurt you and I did; I nearly killed you and I killed our unborn child. My penchant for teasing you grew into an obsession for ridiculing you and humiliating you with ugly words as if by belittling you, I could convince myself that you were unworthy of my love. I guess that's why the conversations stopped."

"But, Rhett," she replied, ignoring for the moment, his admittance that he was deliberately cruel to her to ease his own pain. "Our conversations stopped even before then. They stopped the minute we moved into this house."

"I knew even then that there were times that you laid in my arms and pretended that I was Ashley Wilkes. That was what made me strike out."

"Rhett, you're mentioning Ashley again."

"How can I not mention Ashley? He's been a part of our lives since the day we met. He's why so much of our marriage went wrong and we…I can't forget that." He looked calm, but his voice increased in volume with each word he uttered.

"But he's not a part of our lives now."

"When did you discover that?" Rhett replied blandly.

"I…I…haven't felt anything for Ashley in a long time. I realized it that day at the mill but I'm guessing that my feelings for him changed long before that."

"Well, then, you certainly gave a good imitation of being in love with him up until this moment, Scarlett. Oh, I'm not upbraiding you, I'm just curious about the workings of your mind."

Choosing to ignore his comment, Scarlett continued in a steady voice as if she had not been interrupted. "I wanted our baby and it is just as much my fault as yours for what happened on the stairs." Unable to meet his eyes, she turned her head and gazed out the window to the veranda. "You repeatedly lay the trap and I always take the bait. We quarrel or, should I say, I quarrel. You somehow manage to stay calm and controlled. I always assumed that was because I didn't mean anything to you. You didn't care, so nothing I did or said mattered much to you."

"Scarlett—"

"No, please, let me finish. To answer your question about the separate bedrooms, it started when I got dressed that morning and my waistline was, in my mind, as big as Aunt Pitty's. Oh, I know, I know, I was being shallow and vain. I know. So, I went to the mill and as you guessed, I met Ashley there. He said some things—"

"What things?"

"He said…we argued about using convicts and he blamed you, not me for wanting to work convicts. He said you had twisted my thoughts and he hated the thought of you touching me. He said that your touch coarsened me, hardened me."

"That son-of-a-bitch!" Rhett said, slamming down both hands onto the table, shaking the crystal glasses so hard that one tipped over, spilled water everywhere. When Scarlett uprighted the glass, she held it to the flickering candlelight and as dim as it was, a large, jagged piece was missing from the fragile glass.

"I'm sorry, Scarlett," Rhett said, unsmiling, immediately regretting his loss of temper.

"It's fine, Rhett. We have others," she said absently, then shaking her head as if to clear her mind, she turned to look at him directly. "Rhett, listen! What he said was wrong, but it was my fault. Stupidly, I assumed he was asking that we be physically true to each other. It seemed romantic at the time, particularly in light of your coldness toward me."

Rhett winced at each word she uttered, but managed to swallow the bile rising up in his throat enough to question her further. "My coldness?"

"Rhett, from the minute Bonnie was born, you changed. Where your eyes once followed me, they now followed Bonnie. I was…I can't believe I'm saying this…but I was jealous. I suppose I still am. Ashley gave me every indication that he wanted me and I knew you didn't. Anyway, I thought that there was a practical aspect of separate bedrooms, too, no more babies. Then, you acted like it didn't bother you at all when I felt like I was making a big sacrifice. At any rate, after you left, I regretted all of it and the mess I made of everything."

The quiet of the evening was deafening. Neither spoke. Rhett lit a cigar and sat staring out the window while he smoked. He felt like they had taken ten steps ahead last night, only to take twenty steps backward just now. Where the evening was once bright with potential, it now seemed dismal. The delicious food had grown cold and unappetizing. The crystal water glasses were no longer sparkled but were marred with fingerprints and one now sported a large, v-shaped chip that rendered the glass useless. The crisp linen napkins were now soiled and thrown negligently on the table that was, just an hour before, so elegantly dressed. The tablecloth was soaked with water. The bread pudding dessert, which was soaking in the Chef Gustave's secret sauce, sat untouched and looked to be as tasteless as a piece of hardtack. Scarlett suddenly lost her appetite and pushed what was left of her meal back and forth across the plate.

"It seems we've been at cross purposes. But it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Scarlett looked up sharply at Rhett, suddenly alert as if he had reached into her chest and was squeezing her heart in an ever-tightening grip. "Why? What do you mean?" The last spoonful of sweet potato in her mouth turned to sawdust and she had to swallow it with effort.

"You asked me earlier about why I didn't give my father a second chance. The truth is, I did. He kicked me out and struck my name from the family bible. He said things to me that no boy—no one of any age—should have to hear from his father. But I was young, foolish and perhaps, in many ways, he was right and I was wrong. I made mistakes. Age has a wonderful way of making us see the errors of our ways. Time has a way of softening the edges of bitterly sharp memories. Given a healing period of months or years, one will very often forget what the actual argument was about that caused the breech in the relationship in the first place.

"Thinking that, on one of my many trips into Charleston during the war, I sought out my father to make amends. I came before him, hat in hand, heart on my sleeve, but he met me armed for battle." Rhett's eyes misted as he recollected the events of the last visit with his father and his face fell into a grimace that was not at all pleasant. "He started yelling, absurd things, things that had nothing to do with reality, accusing me of things that in fact, had never happened. I asked him, 'Do you talk to Ross or Rosemary like this?' He shouted, 'No! I don't have to. They don't treat me badly as you do!'

"I reacted with my heart, not my head. I, in turn, said some things to him that I now regret. I told him that he had driven me away. He, in turn, called out to God to take him on the spot, that dying would be preferable to being in the same room with his son. He then corrected himself and told me that he had only one son, Ross. I told him that I, too, would prefer to die than to admit to anyone that he was my father. He claimed that we'd both be better off in the local cemetery. At that I walked out and never saw him alive again."

"Oh, Rhett—," Scarlett sobbed and reached her hand out to touch his arm. He looked down at her hand on his wrist, moistened his lips, then purposefully withdrew his hand to take the linen napkin from the table to wipe his mouth one last time. He tossed it back on the table and then stood.

"Let me help you back to bed," he said without preamble. Scarlett just looked up at him, taken aback by his outburst. He cradled her in his arms and lifted her easily from the chair. He gently laid he back in her bed, then turned.

"So, you see, Scarlett. I've found that second chances don't always pan out exactly as planned." With that, Rhett Butler strode out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

After Rhett left Scarlett's room, he took off down the main drive then suddenly stopped short. "What the hell am I doing?" he chided himself. He made a sharp turn and hiked to the back of the yard where he settled onto a bench in the gingerbread-encrusted gazebo that was the centerpiece of the yard. "I did it again," he said, shaking his head wearily. Of course, he knew what set him off—the very notion that Ashley found the idea of Scarlett sharing a bed with her husband distasteful. "Damn him to hell!" Rhett shouted to no one in particular, walking in giant strides that crisscrossed the gazebo while he absently raked his fingers through his hair. "And Scarlett! How could she think it was romantic being true to the man?" The very thought made his stomach turn. "Well, they can have each other! What a pair! They are perfected suited for each other!" He exclaimed, pulling a punch at one of the gazebo's main support posts and doing no damage than badly scraping the knuckles of his right hand until they bled.

With that, he sat down and exhaled deeply, partly in disgust and partly due to exhaustion. He pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wrapped it around his hand. He had worked himself up into lather, which was not exactly his style. Typically, the only temper that flared in the Butler household was Scarlett's. Right now, she was probably—well, she was lying in her bed, thought Rhett. She really had no other choice; he had left her again. Now that his initial anger had dissipated, he was filled with remorse. He had wanted the evening to be so perfect down to the very last detail, all to brighten Scarlett's mood and show her exactly how important she was to him. And now, well…he had ruined everything. Their evening had gone downhill the moment that Ashley's name entered the conversation. Hearing Scarlett utter Ashley's name and speak it aloud with such familiarity in the middle of their evening just when they were reveling in their newfound intimacy had the same effect on him as throwing a bucket of cold water in his face.

The shock not only served to freeze the warm mood he hoped to cultivate, but it washed away the fragile veneer he had constructed around his failed relationship with his father. Just thinking of his father brought a look of disgust to Rhett's face; disgust mixed with guilt. Disgust for allowing his father to reach beyond the grave where he could still wreck havoc with his life and guilt for even beginning to compare the doomed relationship he shared with his father to restoring his marriage with the love of life.

Yes, the second chance he had extended his father had failed miserably, but that was not to say that the same thing would happen if he and Scarlett gave their marriage a second chance. He knew the comparison he made earlier was unfair to Scarlett; he knew it like he knew his name. He threw down the stub of a cigar that he held in his fingers, stood with some effort and looked up at the house. He had to return to Scarlett and make amends. It was not something he was accustomed to. When it came to Scarlett, it was his strategy to hold the higher ground for to give her the advantage would be to lose his soul. Now the tables were turned. If he wanted to win her, he had to make this up to her, which put him at a distinct disadvantage. As he stepped down from the gazebo and strolled toward the house, he noticed a pile of kindling setting outside the kitchen door. He chuckled a the sight and prophesized, "I guess I have a lot of wood to chop."

* * *

Scarlett lay in bed sullen. How could everything that was so right, go so wrong? Rhett left, as was his pattern, leaving her forlorn with nothing, nothing but the memory of the evening, which was the sweetest thing ever as its outset, turned to bitter fruit at its demise. In retrospect, she was surprised that Rhett even remembered to return her to the bed for she could not have made it on her own, per Doctor Meade's orders. "Oh, damn him to hell," she hurled the oath at Doctor Meade. "And damn Rhett to hell, too." And with that, she was overcome with impotent rage, which eventually gave way to an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Scarlett felt that in her condition—unable to even return to her bed on her own steam—she hardly could wage her usual war against Rhett. "Damn him," she muttered again. "What the hell was wrong with the man?" She was so infuriated, so confused, so hurt that she fell into never ending sobs for the balance of the evening that left her pillow wet and her stomach in knots.

Mammy had come in to help her get ready for bed. She had been surprised when Scarlett rung for her so early in the evening. Captain Butler had been doing so much for Scarlett during her convalescence that Mammy really didn't expect to hear from the pair again that evening, so she was quite surprised to not only hear from Scarlett, but to find the magnificent food Captain Butler had catered in only picked at and the dessert left entirely uneaten. Mammy made some innocent inquiries, but all were met with benign answers from Scarlett. Mammy took the hint and left, muttering under her breath, "Silly, stubborn fools."

Scarlett wanted desperately to roll onto her side, curl up and hug her knees to her chest, but doctor's orders forbid any such thing. She had to remain on her back until further notice. As a result, she cried and cried until she would consciously take a deep breath to try and stem the tears, only to have them start all over again just a moment later. Finally, she lay in a trance-like state somewhere just before sleep consumed her, when a sound startled her to consciousness and she opened her eyes to see a sliver of light enter the room as her door opened just as the clock in the upstairs hall tolled once.

"You're still awake. Do you want company or would you rather I left?" Only a steely silence met his question. Rhett approached the bed. His waistcoat was unbuttoned as was his shirt, which was also untucked, but he was sober. Scarlett took in the details quickly, although she did her best to keep her eyes averted. "You don't want to talk to me, do you? I understand. I did it again, didn't I?"

"You're an ass."

"Scarlett, I—" He knelt on the bed and leaned so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"No, I don't want to hear it. You always have some excuse. You come to me with all your talk of honesty and lure me into a false sense of security, lead me to tell you things…things that I haven't told anyone…things I guess I shouldn't have told you. And you leave, again. Again! That's all you do." She turned her head to look at him with disdain, dried tears still showing on her face. "You really are an ass," she concluded and turned away.

"Scarlett, look at me!"

"No!"

"Scarlett!"

"No, damn it! But I guess you'll have your way regardless. You always do! There's nothing much I can do now. I can't even get out of this goddamn bed if I wanted to! I'm so helpless! Oh, God!" Her cry of anguish broken the stillness of the evening and she started to sob all over again, tears rolling down her cheeks into her ears.

"Scarlett, I did it again. I know. I'm not going to offer any excuse. It still holds; I don't want to play our marriage like a poker game any more, but old habits do die hard. Like I said, I don't want to offer any excuse, but I do want to offer you an explanation, an explanation I hope you'll accept." He had lain down by her side and had his right arm curled around the top of her head while the left laid on his hip, rising occasionally as he gestured for emphasis.

"Scarlett, will you listen?"

"I have no other choice, do I?" She replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

"Scarlett, when I told you about my father, it reminded me of my biggest failure. As I said, I gave him a second chance and what did it get me? Nothing. I was turned away—again—and he sent me off with a death wish. It hurt. That was my father, after all. I was his firstborn. Yet, he cast me out, not once, but twice.

"Hence, I'm a bit gun shy of second chances as my track record in personal relationships pales in comparison to my gambling winnings. I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. My father taught me that. What is broken is broken—and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived."

"If this is to reassure me, you're failing miserably."

"No, this isn't to reassure you, it is to reassure me. Scarlett, I've given you plenty of leeway when it comes to asking questions of me. Now, I have one for you. It is a very important question, a key to our future—should you want a shared future—as it were. Before I lay anything else of my own on the line or, for that matter, ask you to share any more of yourself, I need to know if it is worth pursuing. You told me that you no longer carry a torch for the honorable Mr. Wilkes. I believe you are telling the truth, but I've never known you when you weren't in love with the man, so this is uncharted territory for me. I need guidance from you.

"Tell me, Scarlett, do you want to try and rebuild our marriage—our relationship—or would you prefer that we maintain our marriage at the status quo? If you say yes, I expect to lay out some conditions to avoid the pitfalls I've encountered in the past…Are you still with me?" He waited for a response from her, but his question went unanswered. Taking her silence as an indication of agreement, he continued. "By saying yes, we agree to put our all into rebuilding our life as a family, nothing less than a hundred percent of effort on both our parts. By saying yes, we agree to be entirely honest with one another. By saying yes, we—"

"By saying yes, we agree not to walk out of an argument or discussion, walk out after an argument or discussion, or take off on a trip for months on end after an argument or discussion," Scarlett interjected.

"I see you're getting into the spirit of this. That's good. Anything else?"

"By saying yes, we spend all of our nights at home," Scarlett shot back. "By saying yes, we agree to be faithful—"

"Mentally as well as physically," added Rhett.

"By saying yes, we present a united front to the children, especially Bonnie. By saying yes, we agree not to undermine the other in front of the children."

"By saying yes, there are no more separate bedrooms," cut in Rhett. "Should we be writing all of this down?"

"Only if you can't remember it all."

"Oh, I'll remember."

"By saying yes, we agree to respect one another. We promise not to belittle or humiliate the other."

"I can see you're enjoying making this agreement but the question remains, is it something you can agree to? Is it something you _want_ to agree to?"

"Will you?" Scarlett retorted, giving him a level stare.

"Yes," replied Rhett. There was no mocking in his face, nor was it bland. His eyes were full of so much hope that Scarlett couldn't help but relax the tight hold she held on the bed sheet and her nerves. "So that leaves you, Scarlett. Are you able to sign on to this agreement?"

"Yes," she said simply, a shy smile breaking out on her face, which grew wider when Rhett beamed at her.

Rhett could always read her easily and for the first time in his life, he saw something he hadn't in her eyes. Something he had never seen before, but always hoped would be there. He had imagined thousands of times what it would look like but his dreams paled to reality. Scarlett's eyes sparkled like jewels amid a flickering flame and in them he saw a reflection of himself. Never had her eyes shone bright and yet misty like this, not in their most passionate moments, not when she was raging at him, not even when she was mooning over Ashley Wilkes. He wanted to shout to the rafters, run into town and ring the church bells, tear open the window and shout loud enough to wake the neighbors and tell them of his extraordinary good fortune. Scarlett loved him—at last! She didn't say the words, but it was clearly written on his face. Scarlett O'Hara loved him!

"You do strike a tough bargain, Mrs. Butler, but a very good one," he said smiling. "I always knew you had a good head for business." With his free left hand, he took hold of her hands.

"Likewise, Captain Butler."

When Scarlett's wedding band glinted brightly in the moonlight, it caught Rhett's eye, stirring a memory. "Our agreement sounds eerily familiar. I recall nearly three years ago that we made a similar promise to love, honor and obey—"

"For richer or poorer," Scarlett cut in, her eyes going to his.

"…in sickness and in health…" Rhett continued, taking hold of the wedding band on her finger and after moving it up her finger, easing it back snuggly in place. Their eyes held each other and each spoke the words slowly, deliberately, thoughtfully.

"Forsaking all others…" Scarlett returned, emphasizing the word _all_. Both Scarlett and Rhett were weighing the real meaning and commitment inherent in each sentiment before speaking it aloud. This time, both Scarlett and Rhett realized the implication of their vows and did not take the words lightly as they did once before, but seriously, each keenly aware of the gravity of every promise and speaking them slowly as though sharing detailed instructions that would ensure their very own survival. "To have and to hold…"

"To love and to cherish from this day forward…" answered Rhett as Scarlett reached to the inside breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out one of his cigars. It was encircled with a label printed in a variety of colors that read Ramon Allones, Habana. She slid the band off the cigar and held it out for Rhett's finger, which he offered her.

"…until death do us part," Scarlett finished, as she slid the paper cigar band onto his left ring finger, then looked back up at him, her emotions clearly written on her face.

"You are so beautiful," Rhett breathed, burying his lips in her hair. "I love you, Scarlett O'Hara."

Scarlett freed one hand from Rhett's grip and brought it up to his face. Tears that had been flowing freely all evening started to trickle down her face, but now they were tears of joy, not sorrow. "That's Scarlett O'Hara Butler if you don't mind."

Rhett was still so close to her that he only had to shift his hips slightly to lay flush along her left side. His hand above her head played in her soft hair and he kissed her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tears. "No more tears, my love. We'll do better this time, I promise." He brought his lips to hers and held them in a soft, sweet yet chaste kiss that was tender, loving and even respectful, thought Scarlett, who brought her fingers to her lips to savor the feeling even as he pulled back.

"Mrs. Butler on this, the first night of our renewed married life, is there anything I can do for you, get for you?"

"Well," she started, whispering so softly that he had to lean in even closer to hear her. "I never did get my dessert."

"Ahh, yes, consistency thy name is woman," he teased, but his eyes smiled as did his face. "I'll go get it for you. I'll be right back." Rhett hurried down to the kitchen where he found the bread pudding. He grabbed two plates. He was fairly humming with joy. For a second he paused; she hadn't said the words he longed to hear, but he knew she loved him, he just knew it. But, he couldn't shake a nagging thought that he wanted to hear those words; he needed to hear them. He said them; he wanted to hear them in return. Never before had he said those words aloud and it was a strange feeling indeed to say them to someone and not have the person you love say them in return.

It was an awkward feeling, he knew. He had heard plenty of women tell him that they loved him. He left the words hanging in the air while he went on about his business, choosing to ignore their plaintive statements. Bedding a woman was one thing; telling her he loved her was another thing entirely. Countless women had bared their souls to him, misinterpreting their nocturnal activities as love. He remembered seeing how they withdrew when they held out their heart to him in their hands only to have him turn his back with a polite, "No, thank you." Did he look as pitiful to Scarlett as those women looked to him? He shrugged off the thought. He did not want anything to ruin this moment. "You don't tell a woman that you love her expecting something in return," he told himself. "No, just focus on the moment."

Finally, the long wait was over. His eye caught sight of the cigar band wrapped about the fourth finger of his left hand. He wanted to celebrate. He was just starting up the stairs when he suddenly turned around, headed to the wine cellar where he chose a bottle of champagne and found two glasses before heading back upstairs. When he returned to the bedroom, he found Scarlett sitting on the side of the bed with her bare legs dangling over the side. The sight took him by surprise.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, rushing to her side.

"Doctor Meade said I could get up tomorrow. Well, today is tomorrow and I'd like to get up. Besides," she continued, eyeing the champagne bottle tucked under his arm and the two champagne glasses he held between his fingers while his other hand balanced the plates and the bread pudding, "I want us to celebrate under the stars on the veranda."

"Scarlett," Rhett signed in exasperation. "Why must you always be so difficult? Why don't we celebrate in bed," he suggested with a wink. "We can sit on the veranda after the sunrise."

"Rhett, please," she pleaded.

Rhett set down the accoutrements he held in his hands, realizing that arguing with her was futile. He went to the veranda and opened the doors, then returned to Scarlett's side. He lightly encircled his arm around her waist and extended his other arm to her so that she could pull herself up, using him for support. He tried to help her, but didn't want to put too much pressure on her side. She stood with some effort and gave him a tentative smile. Once up, she leaned on him for support and then looked up at him and nodded, indicating that she was ready to take her first steps. Slowly and a little shaky, she put one foot in front of the other. With each step, her smile grew and by the time she reached the veranda doorway, she turned her face up to the moon and caught the breeze in her face as it ruffled her hair.

"Oh, this is wonderful. And here I was thinking the evening couldn't get more perfect."

"You mean it was perfect before I got you up out of bed?" asked Rhett, leaning against the doorjamb admiring Scarlett's beauty, as she stood solitary on the veranda, bathed in moonlight in her gauzy white nightgown that seemed to give her an ethereal glow and was so transparent that every curve of her body was clearly visible.

He had to shake his head to clear his thoughts and went to retrieve the champagne and glasses. The cork shot out across the lawn with a loud popping sounds and he poured the bubbly champagne into their glasses, handing one to Scarlett, who steadied herself by holding onto the veranda railing.

"To second chances." Rhett lifted his glass to hers.

"To second chances," she replied, clinking her glass with his. They drank without ever taking their eyes off each other. Each was, perhaps, seeing the other for the very first time.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked when she saw his handkerchief wrapped around his right hand.

"The gazebo out back got the better of me earlier this evening. It was punishing me for being an ass as you pointed out."

"Oh! I'm so sorry," Scarlett said, dimpling before growing serious. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, my dear. Thank you for asking."

"Here, let me," said Scarlett, taking hold of his injured hand and pulling back the handkerchief to reveal a series of bloody scrapes and cuts crossing his joints on his fingers as well as the knuckles on his hand. "Does the gazebo look as bad as your hand?"

"No, I'm afraid the gazebo held its ground. It got the best of me."

"You must have been awfully frustrated to have done this," she said softly, looking up at him while she held his hand in hers, kissing his hand delicately and gently dabbing the wounds with the handkerchief. The touch of her lips on his hand and the way she was looking at him while she was kissing his hand, sharpened his senses and he felt a familiar stirring,

"Well, it's all right now," he replied, trying to disengage his hand. Her simple kisses to his hand were driving him to the edge and he had to control himself. Here, before him, was a combustible situation. Scarlett in the moonlight, warm, willing and loving…but he couldn't. They couldn't. She wasn't well yet.

"Well?" she angled toward him as much as she could, pursing her lips.

"Well, what?" He caught her implication. She was being slyly seductive. It was a heady feeling but he had to restrain himself. She had persuaded him to let her get out of bed; he couldn't let her persuade him to take any other chances—not yet. He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. Then, thinking the better of the situation, he realized that she probably shouldn't be standing so long and took a step backwards to offer her a chair.

"What am I your sister? Is that what married kisses are going to be like or should I wait and hope for better things?" she asked, her lips curving into the grin of a Cheshire cat.

Rhett held her stare, then lead her to a wicker chair and sat her down. Leaning over her, he carefully placed his hands on the two armrests. Her eyes were enormous, filling the entire frame of his vision. He lowered his head, bringing his lips to within an inch of hers. They each held the other's eyes in a trance, both casting quick, furtive glances as the other's lips so close, so near. Then like a tentative youth, Rhett drew closer and grazed her lips with his. She returned his kiss with a whisper soft caress, then, all too soon Rhett moved to stand. Before he could withdraw more than a couple of inches, Scarlett brought her hands up and placed them on either side of his face. She drew him back down to her and kissed him with a deepness and a tenderness that overwhelmed him. She clung to his face and her lips drank from his mouth like she was dying of thirst. He tried resisting as best he could, knowing that this encounter could go no further than kissing. Still, after years of taming his pent up passion, he would have needed the strength of Samson to hold back his ardor any longer and he returned her kisses with total abandon.

Her hands were alternately in his hair, holding his face while he continued leaning over her. Finally, with some effort, he moved to stand, but Scarlet grabbed onto him mightily. "I love you," she breathed into his mouth. She kissed him again on his cheeks, his nose and again on this mouth, before tilting her head back to look into his eyes. They were glassy and a single tear trailed down his face, which Scarlett brushed away with her thumb. "You fool, you maddening, infuriating man, I have loved you for so long."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It was nearly dawn when Rhett and Scarlett finally fell asleep. They had sipped champagne on the balcony where they were bathed in moonlight and caressed by the soft breeze. When it became too cool, Rhett helped Scarlett walk back to the bed where they polished off the bread pudding, sharing an intimacy they had never really known before. They talked about inconsequential things and made plans for bringing the children home. At first, there was a nervousness that translated to awkwardness at their newfound closeness but after a few moments, even that faded away as they fed the other spoonfuls of dessert.

"Scarlett, let me ask you a question," said Rhett, swirling the spoon around on the plate.

"Hmmm, you seem to be full of questions these days," she replied with a coquettish smile. "Go ahead, ask away." She put down her plate and crossed her arms as she sat back amid the pillows.

"I just need to know…I just can't believe after all these years that you finally—"

Scarlett cut Rhett off by putting her fingers on his lips. "Shhh…I do love you and I will never get tired of telling you so. Like I said, I've loved you for such a long time but I was such a stupid fool I didn't know it. You have to believe me!"

"Oh, I do, but—"

"But nothing! Look you always said you could tell if I was lying—"

"It is not that I think you're lying, my love, it is that I can't believe this has all finally happened." He fed her another mouthful of dessert and succeeded in only getting half of it actually into her mouth. The rest tumbled onto her lip and chin and he quickly wiped them clean with his finger as they both started laughing. With that, Scarlett reached for his hand and kissed the whipped cream and brown sugar from his fingertip, her laughter now muted as she slowly licked her lips before placing light, butterfly kisses on each of his fingers and then the palm of his hand all the while staring deeply into his eyes. Neither was laughing now as Rhett held his breath watching Scarlett's movements with a burning intensity.

"Scarlett—" Rhett started to pull his hand away, but Scarlett held tight, burying yet another kiss into his palm.

"Don't pull away! I won't hurt you. And pray compose yourself." She smiled demurely at him from beneath her lashes and continued kissing his hand and finally, placed her lips against his wrist where she felt his pulse racing. "Rhett, you do like me, don't you?"

"I like you tremendously, my dear," replied Rhett, working hard at keeping his voice in check. Never had Scarlett taken the initiative like this in a physical act of intimacy and here she was throwing his own words back at him. "And you, you like me, too, I think," he said, taking her hand and placing it against his hard cheek.

"Well, yes," she answered cautiously. "When you aren't acting like a varmint."

"I think you like me because I am a varmint," he was starting to turn the tables on her and now he, too, planted a sweet kiss in her palm.

"Oh, Rhett," she sighed and slid deeper into the bed, closing her eyes yet not letting go of his hand until Rhett moved from the bed to set the dessert plates on the table. He turned down the lamp and shrugged off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"No, Rhett, turn the lamp back up. I want to see you," breathed Scarlett. He did as she asked. He pulled off his shirt and discarded his pants, then naked, he slid back into bed alongside Scarlett. She looked at him appreciatively, admiring his body, which could be so strong and unyielding, yet still so gentle.

"Like what you see?"

"I always have. You're much too good looking. Sometimes I think it isn't decent."

"Being decent is no fun," he whispered wickedly.

He picked up her free hand again and continued kissing her palm, pressing his lips against her wrist, where her pulse, too, was beating faster than usual. His lips traveled up her arm and he heard her breath hitch and goose bumps rose on her skin.

"Ummm," she sighed. Her free hand went to the back of his head and there she played with his hair that curled ever so slightly at his nape and gently pulled him closer to her. When his lips rose as high as Scarlett's shoulder, he looked up into her eyes. There were no words; they didn't need any. They both moved to kiss the other, tentative at first, then both opened their mouths to taste the other's kisses and tease each other with their tongues. Rhett pressed the full length of his body closely against Scarlett's side, needing to be close to her, needing to feel her body next to him yet unable to achieve the oneness that only God could have designed. For her part, unable to curve her body to mold to his, Scarlett could only snuggle against him even closer until only the thin fabric of her nightgown separated the two and even that was a hindrance, but neither dared remove it. That thin fabric was the only protection they had at this moment; it was a dam that held back the raging waters of their passion. Her nightgown stayed in place when they could have easily cast all caution aside, but knew that they could not, must not.

With each kiss exchanged, hands roamed with increasing intensity and lips sought out the others with an ever-growing hunger. Both pulled back simultaneously, panting for breath, driven to near exhaustion and soaring sensitivity all at the same time. Being so close yet so far, conjured up memories in Rhett of the passionate kisses they shared during their courtship, just after their engagement, when passion climbed to its zenith only to have social convention demand that he pull back and compose himself until their wedding night. Memories of Scarlett tucking stray hairs back into her chignon and straightening her bodice while Rhett breathed deeply, smoothed down his hair and straightened his cravat. Rhett remembered many a night walking stiffly back to the Atlanta Hotel after leaving Scarlett at Aunt Pitty's house, pulling his jacket around his mid-section for fear he might encounter someone he knew who would clearly see his obvious discomfort. Now, he was reliving those moments and it made him feel young again, invincible with a bright future lying ahead of him.

"Honey, being this near to you is driving me to distraction." Rhett's voice was ragged with passion.

"You, too?" Her smile was shy at first, but she seemed to have a wicked glint in her eye as she felt his arousal against her thigh.

"Me, too, as if you didn't notice," he added with a wink. "I think it best, my dear, that we restrain ourselves as best we can until you're fully recovered, if you know what I mean," he said, rolling onto his back. "And, believe me, this won't be easy."

"No, it won't," Scarlett admitted, staring up at the ceiling and then, at Rhett, who had just snuffed out the lamp.

"Honey, you don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." He had turned back onto his side and gazed at her lovingly, a look, which was, reflected right back at him through Scarlett's eyes.

"You're not suggesting that you move back across the hall, are you?"

"What would make you think that? This will take willpower, but if there's anything I have plenty of, it's willpower. What do you think helped me keep my hands off you all those years before I finally got you?"

"Hold me, Rhett."

"Darling, always, always." He wrapped his arms around Scarlett and she nestled into his embrace. "Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, Rhett," she sighed and added for good measure, "I love you."

"You promise you won't change your mind in the morning?"

"Never, my love, never."

* * *

They didn't wake up until after noon and then, they still lounged in bed, cooing endearments to one another. Scarlett rubbed her bare feet up and down Rhett's legs and he twisted his fingers in her hair, mesmerized by the ringlets he was creating simply by winding her silken hair around his fingers. It took all of their combined willpower to rouse from what had become their shared sanctuary, not Scarlett's alone, but they knew they had no choice; Doctor Meade was scheduled to pay a visit that afternoon.

Over a rather hasty breakfast, Rhett sat gazing at a tendril that had escaped from Scarlett's otherwise meticulous up-do and curled down the back of her neck. Scarlett was talking but his mind and his body were otherwise occupied.

"Rhett, did you hear what I said?" asked Scarlett when she received no response from him.

"Hmmm…Oh, sorry, darling. I was distracted," he said as he leaned over to kiss that stray tendril and nuzzle gently at her neck. A shiver went through Scarlett and she closed her eyes and tilted her head to give him better access to her neck and throat. "What did you say?"

"Ummm…What? Ohhh, that's nice." She rubbed her cheek against his like a cat leaving its mark. A sharp sound from outside claimed their attention and brought them both back to the present. "Ah, I don't know what I was saying. It's gone clear out of my head," laughed Scarlett. "All right, now behave yourself, please." She wiped her face clean of the shear pleasure that shone on it and replaced it with a business-like demeanor as she sat up straight. "Let's see, I believe I was saying that it might be nice if we could take the children with us on a visit to Tara. You never have been there, you know. I'd love for you to see it. I want to show you around."

"I want to see where you grew up. That sounds good. Now that you're moving around again, it might be just what you need, what we all need to get healthy again."

"Oh, Rhett, that sounds wonderful. You'll come then?"

"Do you want me to accompany you?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Then, I wouldn't think of sending you off by yourself. I don't see any point in us spending any more time apart than necessary. In fact, I was thinking that perhaps we might have a second honeymoon. What do you think about that?"

"Why, Rhett! That would be just heavenly."

"I thought we might spend a month or so at Tara and by then, you should be up to traveling and who knows, we could go anywhere."

"Would you take me to Charleston? I think it is high time I met your mother."

It wasn't the first or the last time that day when Rhett's eyes would mist over. His heart was bursting and his chest felt tight, so tight that a bubble of happiness rising in his throat threatened to burst forth in a joyous sob. He could only swallow hard and discretely wipe the tears from his eyes, then throw his wife a wide grin. A knock at the door interrupted what promised to be another intimate moment between husband and wife and reluctantly Rhett went to the door to let Doctor Meade in.

He visited with the pair, noticeably happier than he was the last time Rhett and Scarlett had seen him. Doctor Meade seemed to be in a bright mood and smiled at the Butlers frequently. He examined Scarlett and evaluated her steady, but still somewhat shaky steps and decided there was no damage done to her hips and that as long as she didn't overdue things, she was fit enough to travel to Tara.

"Can I lay on my side or do I still have to stay on my back?"

"Lay however you wish. You'll know if you've moved the wrong way. Now, I understand that the children are coming home today, too. Now, just remember, no lifting and don't do anything strenuous, young lady. Remember that!" Doctor Meade admonished as he packed his bag.

Suddenly, laughter and happy chatter was heard from the hall. "The children are here," announced Rhett.

"Rhett, wait," Scarlett grabbed his hand as he started to leave the room and held fast. "Don't bring in the children just yet," she said, looking up at him from her chair. "Doctor Meade?"

"Yes, Scarlett."

"Well, I was wondering if there can be other babies," she asked without a hint of embarrassment. Rhett squeezed her hand in response, his heart overflowing with love when he thought he couldn't possibly love her more than he already did.

"I don't see why not. There was no permanent damage done in the accident. However, that said, give yourself time to heal and recover." Doctor Meade snapped his bag shut and lifted it off the bed.

"Thank you, Doctor Meade," Scarlett called to him as he opened wide the bedroom door.

"Doctor Meade, thank you," echoed Rhett, as he shook the man's hand.

"You're welcome. I'm happy to be the bearer of good news for a change. That's not always the case in my profession. But today, I'm glad to be a doctor to see the recovery you've made, Scarlett…in more ways than one," he added as he turned to leave.

"Did he just wink at us?" Scarlett asked Rhett the moment that Doctor Meade was out of earshot.

"I think he did. What do you know?" Rhett bent and kissed Scarlett on the lips. "Well, are you ready for the onslaught?"

"I don't think I can ever be ready. I'm a little nervous, though," Scarlett answered, biting her lip.

"You'll do fine. They love you and they've missed you so."

The children entered the room solemnly, their laughter and cries of just a moment before, suddenly silenced as if by magic.

"It's all right. You're mother is feeling better," encouraged Rhett as the three approached her with trepidation. "Go on…" he prodded. The three stood close to Rhett, afraid to leave his side.

"It's all right, darlings." At first, Scarlett was annoyed that her children were afraid of her, but then realized that they didn't know why she was sick or to what extent. "Come here and give me a big hug. I've missed you so!" She was sitting in a straight chair by the window and she leaned toward them, opening her arms to their fullest. The silence was deafening but they wavered only momentarily before rushing headlong into their mother's arms.

"Oh, Mother!" cried Bonnie.

"Are you feeling better?" asked Ella.

"Aunt Melly said you were," added Wade.

"I'm feeling wonderful!" answered Scarlett, giving hugs all around along with kisses to cheeks and the tops of heads. "Especially now, that I have you all here with me. I have my family back right where they belong. I have missed you all so much. And, I love each of you with all my heart," she told them, looking first at Wade, then Ella and lastly, Bonnie. Finally, Scarlett looked up at Rhett, bestowing on him a bright, saucy smile that brought out her dimples. "It has been so long since we were all together last, isn't that right, darling?"

Rhett came over and knelt before her, sitting Bonnie on his bended knee. "Yes. It's been a long time."

"Are we staying at Aunt Melly's again tonight?" asked Wade.

"No, Wade. You're home now. But you're going to miss Beau and Aunt Melly, aren't you?" asked Scarlett.

"Well, yes, but I'm so happy to be home, Mother. I'm glad we're not going back there." Wade beamed at his mother. She looked happy and she was being so loving. Uncle Rhett seemed happy, too.

Scarlett and Rhett told them of their plans to visit Tara for a month. "After that, we have a surprise for you," Scarlett told them.

"What! What!" the three cried all at once.

"How would you like to go on a honeymoon?" Rhett asked them.

"What's a honeymoon?" asked Ella.

"Well, when a gentleman and a lady marry, they usually leave on a trip, which is called a honeymoon," explained Scarlett.

"We think we're due for a second honeymoon and this time—" Rhett looked at Scarlett and arched his eyebrows, inviting her to finish off the announcement.

"And this time, we want you to join us!"

"Oh, Mother, where are we going?" asked Ella.

"How long will we be gone?" asked Wade.

"Can I bring my kitten?" Bonnie inquired.

"Where will Uncle Rhett be?" asked Wade, startling them all to silence. Scarlett and Rhett exchange glances. They had a lot of work to do with the children, who were unaccustomed to being together as a family.

"Uncle Rhett is coming with us. It's that wonderful? We'll all be together!" cried Scarlett, hoping her excitement would be contagious.

"We thought we'd start in Charleston and after that, who knows? We'll decide that while we're at Tara. And, Bonnie, as for your kitten, we'll talk about that later, too," Rhett said.

They fielded questions from the children until Mammy knocked on the door and announced that supper was ready and she ushered the children out of the room to get washed up.

"Thank you, Mammy. We'll be right down."

"That's good, Mister Rhett." Mammy looked at the two of them and smiled. "Silly fools deserve one another," she muttered on her way out with the children, but she didn't fool Scarlett or Rhett with the big grin on her face.

"Well, that went well." Rhett pulled up another chair and sat directly across from Scarlett, their knees touching.

"Yes…yes it did." She grasped his hands in hers and caught sight of a faraway look in Rhett's eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"How old are you, Scarlett?"

"Twenty-six. Why?"

"You were not more than a child when I met you at the barbeque at Twelve Oaks."

"That's true. That explains a lot now, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes it does."

"How old are you?"

"Forty-three," he answered hesitantly. "Too old for you?"

"Not at all."

"Do you think we can still have a forty-year-plus marriage like the Meades?"

"Will you still love me when I have gray hair done up in a plain chignon and am stooped over?"

"I'll have gray hair, too, and besides, I probably won't be able to see well enough to know what you look like. I won't need to. You'll always be beautiful to me." He raised her hands to his lips and kissed each one in turn. "I have loved you for ten years already. I look forward to the next thirty and thirty more after that. And, you know, that day will be here sooner than we think."

"I know. I really don't want to think about it. When I look back at when I was sixteen, it seems like a lifetime ago and then, it seems like just yesterday. I feel as though you've been in my life forever, and then, I feel as though we've just met."

"In a way, we have. Time goes by awfully fast. We really shouldn't miss a minute of it. We've already wasted a lot of time, time that we never get back. But enough of that talk; let's get on with living our new life. Are you ready to go downstairs? Supper and the children are waiting for us."

"I don't know, Rhett. I'm a little afraid of stepping outside of this room." She let go of his hands and nervously crossed and uncrossed her arms and then twisted her wedding band on her finger. "Don't laugh at me, but this room as become like a confessional. Oh, I know you're not Catholic, but we've shared so much in here…so many truths. In here, we've managed to work through a lot of our problems. We haven't left this room. We haven't let the outside world in. Once we step outside these doors, we won't be able to insulate ourselves from everything any more.

"I'm afraid, Rhett. When I step outside of this room, I step back into the real world. The world we didn't do so well in. You don't understand." Tears starting streaming down her cheeks and Rhett handed her his handkerchief.

"Try me."

"You'll go back to work at the bank, all of Atlanta will still be talking about me, and there is the store and the mills, and the books will all be in a snarl—"

"Scarlett, stop worrying. I won't be going back to the bank if we're going to Tara and then to Charleston and from there, who knows where. As for the old cats, we'll be out of town. That will give time for them to find something else to talk about. You and I will become passé. The way I figure it, we've provided grist for the gossip mill for long enough. Let someone else take over," he said with a smile. "Now, as for the books, I've gone over them. They are current. I've kept them updated. See," he indicated the ledgers piled on a desk in the far corner of the room.

"You did? Was everything—"

"There were some problems, yes, but nothing major and I took care of everything. There are a few customers who didn't get their lumber when it was promised so they demanded that you pay the delivery charges as compensation, so there were more losses on the books in the last month than you are accustomed to."

"Wonderful!" she said sarcastically. Scarlett had stopped crying and now was angry that her illness probably meant the ruin of her businesses. "We sell high-grade lumber at competitive prices and lose any margin we have by missing the delivery date." She exhaled in exasperation and turned to look out the window. "See, this is what I mean. I've been so happy, so content and relaxed these last few days and now here comes the real world back to ruin my happiness."

"You don't have to let it, Scarlett. We don't have to let it intrude on us any longer. We'll be at Tara and you can relax there."

"How can I relax worrying about the store and the mills? Unless…unless…Well, what do you think about my selling the store and the mills, Rhett?"

"Why would you do that, Scarlett?"

"I don't know, I just want to start fresh, be free of it all and all the worries."

"Scarlett, I love you, but I think you're making a rash decision. Let's talk about it more. Maybe you can take a more hands-off approach and hire someone you trust to monitor the businesses. Just take time to think about it so you don't make a decision you're sorry about later." He kissed her hands reassuringly.

"I've made a lot of those and you're right, I don't want to make any more mistakes. But Rhett, I don't want to lose this." She took his hands again and looked deeply into his eyes. "I don't want to lose you."

"Scarlett, we have come a long way these last few days and I'm sure we have much further to go with many more conversations like those we've had of late. But, honey, we can have those talks at Tara, too, or in Charleston, and yes, even downstairs in our dining room. Scarlett, my love, we won't lose what we have gained here, even if we step outside these doors, as long as we continue being honest with each other about our feelings.

"And don't worry about losing me. I just got you, so I have no intention of going anywhere."

"What of Ashley?"

"What of him?" Rhett's eyes became suddenly darker.

"I'm sure I'll see him occasionally—with Melly or at the mill? Will you be all right with that?"

Rhett bent his head. "I'm not going to lie to you, Scarlett. I don't think I'll ever like him being near you." He raised his head to look at her. "But…if I get plenty of reassurance from you that you are mine and mine alone—"

"I am, truly, I am." She cut in.

"And keep our mutual visits to a minimum, well, I can put up with it. Besides, that's another good reason to go to Tara and travel from there. And, that's another reason I vote for hiring a manager to oversee the businesses."

"You always have had a way of making me feel better."

"Good!" Rhett stood up and held out his hand to her. "Then, we best be getting downstairs or everyone will be wondering where we are." She took his arm and they made their way to the bedroom door. Just as Rhett turned the door handle and took a step, Scarlett stopped and rooted to the spot, unable to cross the threshold, she pulled him back.

"What? What is it? Are you all right?"

"Rhett, I just thought of something. What about Bonnie? What are we going to do?" She looked at him as if stricken. He had just returned to her bedroom and tonight she would lose him again now that Bonnie was home. Given the choice between the two of them, she would lose out; she'd be the one left alone in the dark to fend off her nightmares by herself. "You'll need to sleep with her." Scarlett's eyes darkened and her face fell into dismay at the thought she voiced aloud and she took a step to retreat back into her room.

"Scarlett, look at me. Look at me!" he commanded. "Scarlett, no, that will not happen. You have my word. A child is not supposed to come between her parents; a child should bring the parents together. We will get Bonnie through this together. Don't think I haven't already thought through our little dilemma." Scarlett looked up at him in surprise, some of forlorn look she wore faded in light of Rhett revealing a plan. "Yes, my dear, we are once again sharing the same bed and I don't intend to ever sleep without you by my side again." Scarlett beamed brightly at him.

"Well, then do you want to hear my plan?"

"Oh, yes. Do tell."

"For the next few nights and for a week or so at Tara, Bonnie can sleep in our room—with us. We'll bring her bed into our room and gradually transition her back into the nursery. You can sleep for a few nights with the light on, right?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good girl! I figure this will work because…ahem…well, Doctor Meade indicated that we couldn't resume the marital relation until you had a little more time to heal. So I would think in month or so, you'll be recovered and by then, Bonnie will be sleeping in the nursery with Wade and Ella."

"She will, huh?"

"She will."

"You sound pretty confident in your plan."

"I am. I told you I never do anything without getting paid."

"And just what will be your reward if you accomplish this feat?" she asked suggestively.

"Well, I for one, will no longer be taking cold baths because I will be occupied making love to my beautiful wife."

"Ummmm, that gives me something to look forward to," Scarlett mused, taking his arm again.

"Will you really? Look forward to it, I mean?"

"Yes, Rhett. You have a way of making me feel…Oh, I don't know," she blushed profusely at the thought. "That last time you made me feel alive and vibrant and young and beautiful and, well…a little wanton," she said under her breath. "But most of all, I felt loved by you."

He shook his head is mock disgust. "I really did give myself away that last time, didn't I?"

"You should have done that ages ago," she chided him as they stepped out of the room and stood at the top of the stairs.

Before starting down the steps, her hand gasped his and she turned it over to examine his fingers. "Your wedding band is gone," she noted sadly.

"Honey, I'm guessing it fell off during our passionate session in bed this morning," he teased with a laugh.

"It's not an omen, is it?" Her brow puckered and she bit her lip.

"Darling, no! You're not serious are you? Don't forget that you gave me a cigar band. It is not quite a durable as that gold band you wear on your finger."

"Rhett, would you do something for me if I asked you?"

"You've asked me that before and just as I said then, I'll tell you now: You know I would."

"Would you wear a wedding ring for me?" The men Scarlett knew didn't wear wedding rings, women did and many believed while romantic in nature, the ring symbolized possession; an outward sign that the wife belonged to her husband. "I wear this ring because I belong to you. Would you wear one to show everyone you belong to me? Would you?"

Rhett only hesitated a second before answering her. "Scarlett, I've never been a conventional man. I, for one, have always told you that I'm proud to have a smart wife. I'm proud of the success you have with your businesses. I'm open minded enough to know that our fair Southland had a terrible way with burying widows along with their husbands. I think we are terribly rigid in our ways and customs and I tend to be a free thinker who is willing to embrace new traditions.

"But when it comes to a wedding ring, well, my dear, I couldn't possibly wear one—unless it was from you."

The End

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been so kind in reviewing this story. It provided great motivation and I loved hearing your thoughts. I suppose this story could continue on from here. Maybe I'll pick it up again in "Nothing But A Whisper – Part 2." However, I have a ficathon story in the works that demands my attention, so that will be up next. Thanks again to everyone!!**


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